


No Angst November

by aizia, app_jelly, Barna22, Dliessmgg, Hipsterpotomu5, Jrade, Madame_Kiksters, Magarie, MetalWarrior22, TheSoundOfThunderstorms, Tygerrtygerr



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Alcohol, Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, Dating, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food, Friendship, Humor, McSombra has a small role in the first chapter, No Angst November, Smut, Swearing, Truth or Dare, chapters by Jrade are not necessarily ficlets, collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-01-26 22:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 100,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12567276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aizia/pseuds/aizia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/app_jelly/pseuds/app_jelly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barna22/pseuds/Barna22, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dliessmgg/pseuds/Dliessmgg, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hipsterpotomu5/pseuds/Hipsterpotomu5, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jrade/pseuds/Jrade, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Kiksters/pseuds/Madame_Kiksters, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magarie/pseuds/Magarie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetalWarrior22/pseuds/MetalWarrior22, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSoundOfThunderstorms/pseuds/TheSoundOfThunderstorms, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tygerrtygerr/pseuds/Tygerrtygerr
Summary: No Angst in November! A collaborative effort to bring you Overwatch fics all month long! Shorts ranging from a few hundred words to many thousand, by numerous different authors, the only rule being: No Angst! (First chapter's a table of contents if you're looking for particular ships/plots/authors etc.)





	1. Prompt List

  1. Breakfast  
  
_Title: The Best Part of Waking Up (Chapter 2)_  
_Author: Magarie_  
_Ships: Pharmercy (Pharah/Mercy) primary, secondary McSombra (McCree/Sombra)._  
  
Summary:  Fareeha and Angela are college students who have just spent their first night together as a couple. They try to spend a relaxing morning together, but before breakfast can be served Fareeha's roommate arrives.
  2. Lunch  
  
_Title: Lunch (Chapter 3)  
Author: T_ _heSoundOfThunderstorms_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary:  Angela awakes in the apartment of her latest hookup - something which is already odd. She never stays the night. Lunch is awaiting her, though, and something more as well.
  3. Dinner  
  
_Title: Dinner (Chapter 4)  
__Author: TheSoundOfThunderstorms_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary:  Angela tried so hard to make dinner.
  4. Midnight Snack  
  
_Title: Midnight Snack (Chapter 5)_  
_Author: Barna22_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary:  A hungry Angela awakens a sleepy Fareeha to go fetch a midnight snack. A somewhat surprising amount of creative snuggles ensue.
  5. Dessert  
  
__Title: Dessert (Chapter 6)__  
_Author: budgiebum_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  


Summary:  Fareeha stares blankly at Angela for a moment longer than the good doctor is comfortable with. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I heard you right. You did what?”

“I said I signed us up for a bake sale at Marie’s school, schatz.” Angela repeats herself, motioning toward the kitchen table buried beneath shopping bags. “About one hundred cupcakes by Friday.”

  6. Fast Food  
  
_Title: Fast Food (Chapter 7)  
__Author: Madame_Kiksters_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary:  Angela and Fareeha go out for lunch.
  7. No Food (two fics)  
  
_Title: Snowed In (Chapter 8)  
Author: Jrade  
Ships: Spiderbyte (Sombra/Widowmaker) Primary, Mentions of Junkrat/Roadhog and Athena/Winston _  
  
Summary:  Talon and Overwatch are having a little tussle on the ski slopes when an avalanche locks a few of them - namely Roadhog, Winston, Sombra, and Widowmaker - inside and buries the building in snow. They'll need to put aside their differences in order to make it out. However, things take a bit of a turn when they find no food in the whole resort, but they do find quite a lot of alcohol...  
  
  
_Title: Lover's Trail (Chapter 9)_  
_Author: app_jelly_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary:  Fareeha has never been hiking, so, Angela convinces her to go one weekend.
  8. Bad Puns   
  
__Title: King of Dad Jokes (Chapter 10)__  
_Author: Jrade_  
_Ships: no focused ships. Mentions of Lemon Tea (Emily/Lena)_  


Summary: Tracer makes a slight misjudgement on a mission with Jack, intending to stop Widowmaker and Reaper. Does he let her live it down quickly?  
...what do you think?

  9. Sombra tries to be a good gf and takes widow to a fancy wine tasting  
  
__Title: Some Kind of Sommelier (Chapter 11)__  
_Author: Jrade_  
_Ships: Spiderbyte_  


Summary:  There’s a reason why they call it a wine  _tasting_ , not a wine  _drinking._  
A.K.A. Sombra tries really hard to be a good girlfriend, but sometimes it just doesn’t quite pay off.

  10. Motorcycle Fareeha. Angela thinks it’s hot.   
  
_Title: Bikers do Laundry too (Chapter 12)_  
_Author: Madame_Kiksters_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary:  Angela just needed to borrow some detergent.
  11. Clumsy  
  
_Title: A Successful Heist (Chapter 13)_  
_Author: Dliessmgg_  
_Ships: Junkrat/Explosives Primary_  
  
Summary:  Some heists are so epic, so flawless, they can only be accurately portrayed through verse. This is very nearly one of those heists.
  12. Cheesy Pickup Lines  
  
_Title: Cheesy Pickup Lines (Chapter 14)_  
_Author: Jrade_  
_Ships: Lemon Tea_  
  
Summary:  Lena has words. All kinds of words. Emily has dimples. Dimples > words.
  13. First Kiss (two fics)  
  
_Title: First KIss (Chapter 15)_  
_Author: TheSoundOfThunderstorms_  
_Ships: Spiderbyte_  
  
Summary:  Sombra tries twice for a kiss. Only one turns out okay.  
  
  
_Title: First Kisses (Chapter 16)  
__Author: Tygerrtygerr  
__Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary: Fareeha's plans for the night come up short, but she still gets her first kisses.
  14. Roommates  
  
_Title: Rearranging Time (Chapter 17)_  
_Author: Jrade_  
_Ships: No romantic primaries. Mostly off-screen romantic interests with NPCs. Friendship between Mercy & McCree_  
  
Summary: It's rearranging time at Overwatch for another year, and Angela Zeigler's not the most happy about it because it means she's been pushed out of her quarters while they make improvements. She's not sure who she'll be rooming up with, but she doesn't know too many people around the organization too well - not yet - and doesn't exactly have many she'd call "friend". Luckily, fate has a pleasant surprise in store.
  15. Candle Light  
  
_Title: Mission: Interrupted (Chapter 18)  
Author: Jrade_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary: Angela and Fareeha are out on a mission, helping to evacuate some refugees, when a chance encounter leaves them stuck in a locked and dark room. Luckily, Angela's got a little survival kit and there are some candles in there. Less luckily? Well...
  16. Omg, how have I never figured out before that I’m gay (two fics)  
  
_Title: Realisation (Chapter 19)_  
_Author: Dliessmgg_  
_Ships: Pharmercy, but on screen is mostly the friendship between Fareeha and Jesse_  
  
Summary: In a recalled Overwatch, Fareeha is totally gay. Somehow she hasn't connected the dots. Jesse is a good friend.  
  
  
_Title: I'm Gay (Chapter 20)_  
_Author: app_jelly_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary: Fareeha has a gay awakening the day that a blonde woman knocks over her motorcycle.
  17. I got abducted by extraterrestrials but oops now we’re in love  
  
_Title: Sometimes you fall in love with an Alien (Chapter 21)_  
_Author: app_jelly_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary: Fareeha's cat runs into the woods one night and she gets beamed up into Angela's flying saucer.
  18. It’s not a fetish if it’s written wholesomely (two fics)  
  
_Title: Fetish/Anti-Fetish Part One: Wholesome (Chapter 22)_  
_Author: Jrade_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary: Fareeha has a suggestion for Angela, a question. It involves straps, a chair, a blindfold, and no clothing. Angela says yes, but doesn't immediately get  _exactly_  what she had in mind...  
  
  
_Title: Fetish/Anti-Fetish Part Two: Holesome (Chapter 23)_  
_Author: Jrade_  
_Ships: Lemon Tea_  
  
Summary: Tracer's back home with Emily after a trip abroad with Overwatch, and delighted to be so. She even has a new cereal for them to try out! It doesn't go exactly as planned. It goes  _far better_.
  19. Hand massage for sore hands  
  
_Title: Sore Hands (Chapter 24)_  
_Author: TheSoundOfThunderstorms_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary: After a month-long mission, Fareeha's hands are very sore.
  20. Rip my pants  
  
_Title: Blue Hoodies and Victory Fries (Chapter 25)_  
_Author: aizia_  
_Ships: Pharmercy primary, secondary Emily/Lena_  
  
Summary: Fareeha lends a couple of hoodies to a girl who accidentally ripped her pants on campus and finds something a lot sweeter than she expected.
  21. Blankets  
  
_Title: Warming up (Chapter 26)_  
_Author: MetalWarrior22_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary: After a few years without seeing each other, Angela and Fareeha meet up to catch up, they both missed their friend after all. But a little accident will pull them closer together (literally).
  22. Sharing Clothes  
  
_Title: Sharing Clothes (Chapter 27)  
__Author: Pharmercy  
__Ships: Pharmercy_

Summary: Angela comes out of the shower with no clothes to wear.

                 "You can take any of my clothes!"

                 "I like what you're wearing right now..."  

  23. D.va gets Sombra into Video Games (Sombra is a cheater)  
  
_Title: A New Challenger (Chapter 28)_  
_Author: Madame_Kiksters_  
_Ships: No Pairing_  
  
Summary: Hana Song tries to get an admirer for her starring role in Heroes of the Storm
  24. Hands  
  
_Title: Hands (Chapter 29)_  
_Author: budgiebum_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary: Some people think memories are just for brains and stories are just for books, but they're there on hands if you look at them right.
  25. Smiles  
  
_Title: Smiles (Chapter 30)_  
_Author: Tygerrtygerr_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary: Angela didn't smile often. Fareeha decided to change that.
  26. Touch  
  
_Title: A Warm Welcome (Chapter 31)_  
_Author: Barna22_  
_Ships: Pharmercy_  
  
Summary: Angela missed Fareeha’s touch. Memories aren't quite the same. [NSFW]
  27. Mutual Pining that both Pharah and Mercy think is Unrequited  
  
_Title: Mutual Pining (Chapter 32)_  
_Author: aizia_  
_Ships: Pharmercy  
  
_ Summary: _You make me so happy it turns back to sad/There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have_
  28. Flirting  
  
_Title: I Was Just Flirting With You (Chapter 33)_  
_Author: app_jelly_  
_Ships: Symbra_  
  
Summary: The woman at work takes Sombra's breath away. Maybe a little flirting can help.
  29. Guy Fieri is a menace  
  
 _Title: America's Menace_  
 _Author: app_jelly_  
 _Ships: No pairings  
  
_ Summary: Widowmaker really doesn't like Guy Fieri. 
  30. Castle




	2. The Best Part of Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha and Angela are college students who have just spent their first night together as a couple. They try to spend a relaxing morning together, but before breakfast can be served Fareeha's roommate arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to our No Angst November project! This is day one with the prompt, "Breakfast." I'm Magarie and I hope you enjoy this small happy fic about Pharah and Mercy. Keep an eye out for Sombra and McCree later on!

Fareeha woke to her nose being tickled faintly by a mess of blonde hair and the fingers of her left hand tingling from a lack of circulation. It was the best morning she’d ever had. With her free hand she shifted, slowly so that she wouldn’t wake up her girlfriend, and soothed the pale, nearly white, locks.

Girlfriend. It was still a little difficult to believe and Fareeha’s lips split into a grin at the memory, or possibly the realization. The first time she’d seen Angela she’d been overwhelmed with her beauty and intellect, but medical students were so busy that she didn’t think Angela would ever make the time for her. She’d never been so happy to be proven incorrect.

She tried to take shallow breaths, unwilling to wake Angela while she dreamed. Fareeha knew that she didn’t typically get enough rest, and she wanted to give her the chance to sleep in even if it was only for one day. This was their first time waking up together; she wanted for it to be perfect. Angela was the most amazing person she’d ever met. She was practically an angel, and she deserved all of the very best things in life.

“You’re going to make yourself light headed,” Angela noted, her eyes still closed as she rested against Fareeha’s chest. 

Fareeha grinned, white teeth a dazzling contrast to her tanned skin. “I don’t mind,” she assured the other woman softly. “How did you sleep?”

Angela lifted her chin to gaze up at Fareeha with large blue eyes that were still hazy with sleep. “Better than I thought I might. I don’t usually sleep away from my house.”

“I don’t usually share my bed.” Her grin betrayed the giddiness in her chest. She hadn’t had a girlfriend this serious before, and she didn’t want to freak Angela out, but she was falling fast. “It was more comfortable than I thought it would be. I’m sorry that there isn’t more room.”

The giggle that Angela responded with sent Fareeha’s heart soaring. She didn’t think that there was a sweeter sound in the world. She wanted to draw it from the other woman’s lips until the only way to stifle the noise was to sink into a frenzy of kisses. “I’m afraid that I don’t make a very good blanket.” Angela furrowed her brows and frowned at the look on her girlfriend’s face. She frowned slightly when Fareeha didn’t immediately reply. “Fari? Are you okay?”

The words snapped Fareeha from her fantasy. “Hmm?” She replayed their conversation through her mind again to get caught up before she flashed a dazzling smile. “Best blanket I’ve ever had.”

“Fari, you’re blushing.”

“What? No I’m not.” So what if she was? She wasn’t ready to tell Angela everything she felt. It was way too soon and she wasn’t the type to get all clingy after a few dates, or at least she’d never been that way before.

Fareeha found herself desperately wanting to escape the reasons for her colored cheeks so she kissed the top of Angela’s head and suggested, “Let’s go make breakfast.” She didn’t actually want to move. She’d happily lay there in bed all day, but if she did she knew that she’d say something stupid and she didn’t want to run Angela off.

For her part, Angela let out a happy hum and crawled off of Fareeha and her bed. The air was instantly colder without the warmth of another body against them, but both women braved the chill valiantly even as they wished they were back in the other’s arms. “What will we have for breakfast?” Angela wondered, gazing around Fareeha’s room curiously. She’d been fixated on her girlfriend the night before and hadn’t stopped to take in the details of her suite.

The bedroom was small enough that the twin bed filled the far side of it, but it extended long enough for Fari to fit a desk and dresser along one wall. The closet was small too, if the door was any indication, but Fareeha never struck her as the type to have an abundance of clothing. She was so practical and seemingly had no concern for superfluous fashion trends. Angela grinned, remembering back to their first date. She’d almost expected Fareeha to wear the same comfortable and multi-use clothing that she had on campus. She’d been stunned when her date showed up in a form fitting black dress and heels. They hadn’t even gone anywhere extravagant, but it was little oddities like that that drew her to Fareeha.

“There’s only one problem,” Fari explained, drawing Angela out of her memories. 

“Oh?” she hadn’t actually heard what they’d be having, but it was terribly rude to ask a question and ignore the answer, so she decided to wait and see. “What’s wrong?”

Fareeha winced slightly and then stretched. Angela took in her lean, well defined frame and felt herself growing warm again. She had a tendency to date academics, those were what she was surrounded by in her graduate studies; that wasn’t to say that Fareeha wasn’t intelligent, but she wasn’t accustomed to the raw power her body possessed, nor the way she could watch her muscles shifting beneath the surface of her skin. The sight had her wanting to run her lips over her lean muscular frame and the memories of the night before did nothing to discourage that desire.

“My roommate isn’t good at recognizing boundaries.” Fari’s words brought Angela’s attention back to her face. “She doesn't ever wake up before noon, but we should try to stay quiet.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” Mercy assured her. “I’m quite accustomed to keeping quiet to preserve the silence for others, and we can return here if we decide to be louder.” If Fari didn’t get dressed soon she might insist on it. She was never going to make it to breakfast if she kept looking at the woman’s bronzed body.

Angela slipped back into her sundress from the night before, a blue number with small daisies at regular intervals, and Fareeha put on a oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers. It was her normal ensemble for sleeping, but she forwent the outfit the night before thanks to her company. She didn’t want to miss a moment of contact with Angela.

The pair drifted back toward the living room and into the kitchen, lowering their voices to murmurs to avoid waking the other denizen of the household. It was going well until they passed the closed door on the opposite side of the small hallway. Angela reached out to tickle Fareeha with a playful light in her eyes.

Fareeha grinned, but she’d never been very ticklish. She leaned over toward Angela’s ear. “Shh,” she commanded before wrapping her arms around her girlfriend and tickling her relentlessly. Angela squeaked, her feet leaving the floor entirely in futile kicks as Fari supported her weight and took two large steps past the danger zone.

Once they were finally in the kitchen Angela began to giggle helplessly and even Fari released a chuckle. She felt lighter than she had in a long time. It was easy for her to get caught up in school and work and to forget that people her age were supposed to have fun. Sometimes her workload didn’t offer her the opportunity. That was part of why they got along so well. Fareeha was always capable and ready for adventure, although she never thought to do it, and Angela had a world that she desperately wanted to see.

“What are we making?” Angela prompted, feeling a bit awkward without something to occupy herself. She didn’t know her way around, but she wanted to help if she could.

Fareeha grinned at her a little puzzled since they’d had this conversation earlier. Still, she answered readily as she went to the refrigerator to start pulling out ingredients. “I’m not much of a cook, but I can handle french toast. Is that okay with you?”

French toast was heavier than the foods Angela was used to in the mornings. She was doing well to grab a piece of fruit to go along with her coffee, but she nodded at Fari’s suggestion, eager to have her cook for the pair of them. “How can I help?”

“Oh, uhh,” Fari looked around the kitchen and quickly scooped up bowls, eggs, vanilla, spices, sugar, and milk before depositing them on the counter beside Angela. “If you mix these up I’ll get the rest ready.” 

She flashed Angela a grin, which was returned hesitantly. “Umm, I could use some assistance!” Angela called when Fareeha turned away. She felt her breaths coming more quickly in her anxiety. She wasn’t accustomed to being expected to perform tasks with so little information. “I don’t know the measurements,” she explained when Fari turned back around.

Her new girlfriend chuckled and switched directions, making her way around the counter to a bookshelf on the living room wall. The kitchen was small, barely big enough for the two of them, so Angela wasn’t surprised that they needed to keep some of their things in other rooms.

Fareeha shuffled through the books for a moment before pulling one out triumphantly and returning to the kitchen. She opened it and thumbed through the pages, leaving it open for Angela on the counter. Angela beamed in thanks and lifted onto her toes to deposit a kiss on Fari’s cheek. Fareeha’s blush was difficult to see beneath her bronzed skin, but the way she scurried over to the stove belied her embarrassment. She wasn’t used to being kissed by girls as pretty as Angela. It was going to take some getting used to.

They worked quietly, well aware of the closeness of the other person, but afraid that they might grow too loud and draw attention to themselves if shenanigans began. Still, their movements coordinated beautifully in the tiny space. They worked together in harmony, flawlessly executing their task despite the limitations of the area.

The kitchen began to smell heavenly. Notes of vanilla wafted up from the pan where Fareeha fried the bread that Angela dipped in her mixture. They had nearly half of their toast cooked and stacked to the side when a door opened somewhere in the apartment.

Angela looked to Fareeha whose face fell into wary uncertainty, but she kept cooking, hoping that Sombra would go back to sleep. “Put these on the table please,” she whispered as she passed Angela plates with cutlery piled on top of them. Angela nodded and walked into the living room, assuming that the small table there was where they’d take their meal.

“GUESS WHO I DID LAST NIGHT!” Angela looked over with a start to see a small woman, clad in purple pajamas and wearing a cowboy hat. She was alarmingly close, and Angela wondered how she managed not to see her until she shouted. “That guy!” Fari’s roommate provided, pointing both her hands in the direction of the hallway.

Angela glanced where she’d indicated, mostly to appease the small lady in front of her, but no one was there. “Umm, I’m sorry, but there seems to be some sort of-”

The woman cut her off with an exasperated sigh. “Yo, guapo, get out here, you tryin’ to make me look bad?”

“Umm, beggin’ your pardon, ma’am,” came a rough voice from down the hallway. It was tinged with uncertainty and Angela felt bad for the fellow, even without seeing him. This wasn’t how she’d care to be introduced to others. “I can’t find my pants.”

“Just wear a towel or something,” the woman snapped back, but her demeanor brightened when she saw the plates in Angela’s hands. “Ooh, we’re having breakfast? Is that what smells so good?” In the blink of an eye the woman was in the kitchen with Fareeha.

“This isn’t for you, Sombra.”

“Aww, come on amiga! I worked up an appetite last night! Share the wealth would you? I know you can’t be as hungry as me because I couldn’t even hear you once we got started! It’s like you weren’t even trying to compete!” Sombra chuckled and Fareeha pushed past her with a plate of food, red faced and wide eyed.

She set the plate of french toast on the table, but seemed unwilling to brave the kitchen where her roommate waited. Angela smiled and brushed a comforting hand across her shoulder as she went to get the strawberry topping and whipped cream.

Fareeha’s worry was unfounded because by the time Angela arrived in the kitchen Sombra was gone, like she’d just teleported away. She could hear the girl arguing with the man in her room about what he could wear to breakfast. 

“Come on, they won’t even notice,” she claimed, dragging a startled looking young man in a fluffy purple bathrobe into the living room.

“Mornin’,” the man greeted her abashedly, reaching to tip the hat that wasn’t there. Sombra chuckled before putting the cowboy hat back on his head and strutting over to the table. 

“Like I was saying, this is Jay.” No, that wasn’t right. “JC,” she corrected confidently, except he made a noise that made it clear that wasn’t right either. “Jacob!” She grinned, but Angela and Fareeha could see his face and their own expressions told Sombra she was still incorrect. “Fiiine I don’t remember,” she huffed. “Just introduce yourself, would you?”

“The name’s Jesse, but most folks just call me McCree.”

“Jesse, JC, I was close,” Sombra reasoned before appearing behind Angela’s shoulder, startling her again. It was a small miracle that she didn’t drop the bowls. “Ooooh, is that strawberry sauce?” Sombra wondered before dipping her finger liberally into the bowl and then her mouth. “That’s tasty! You chicas really outdid yourselves!”

Angela set the bowl down on the table, hastily distancing it from the finger she saw headed back toward the blended strawberries. “It was very nice to meet you, Sombra and- umm, Jesse, of course.”

She turned back toward them, smiling at Sombra and her male associate in turn. “Ma’am,” Jesse replied, actually managing to tip his hat this time.

Fari still seemed somewhat stunned by the implications of Sombra’s earlier words, but Angela didn’t mind dismissing the two for her. “If you’ll excuse us, we were hoping to have a nice quiet breakfast together.” She smiled pleasantly and Jesse started to turn, obviously willing to take the hint until Sombra interjected.

“Oh, sure, sure, you two can be as quiet as you want! I’ve got loads of stories, don’t I James?”

“Umm, my name’s-”

“Anyway, I’ve gotta meet my roomie’s new novia. She never stops talking about you chica. I think I’ve even caught her writing a few poems.” Sombra leaned in like it was a secret, leaning back with a laugh when Fari gasped her name in scandal. “Anyway, don’t worry we’ve got time for breakfast. We can find his pants later.” 

With that seemingly taken care of Sombra pressed her finger to the tip of Angela’s nose and happily chirped, “Boop!” before sitting down and waving Jesse over to the couch beside her. Angela looked to Fareeha who was eyeing her helplessly, still the color of a ripe plum.

“Ladies? May I?” Jesse wondered, wanting permission from the other two and not just his partner from the night before.

“Oh, why not,” Angela sighed. “The more the merrier.” After all, there was plenty of food to go around.


	3. Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope you enjoy. The prompt is Lunch written by yours truly, TheSoundOfThunderstorms, and the pairing is Pharmercy.

Angela crinkled her nose at the feeling of warm sunlight finally succeeding in waking her up. Dark blue sheets had pooled around her waist, bare skin illuminated by the light shining through the curtains. Thoughts of last night seeped in her memory as she stared at the empty space beside her. How warm lips unraveled every secret held beneath her skin, firm hands keeping her close and setting off a trail of electricity. She grabbed onto her pillow and buried her face into it, smiling at every moment that passed through her mind.

This wasn’t something she’d normally do. She never stayed, never even entertained the thought. And yet, when beautiful brown eyes captured her attention, shining smile asking her to stay as gentle fingers ran through her hair, she couldn’t say no. She didn’t want to.

The smell of food wafted in through the crack in the door. The longer Angela lied in the stranger’s bed, the hungrier she got. It was when she could have sworn the sound of her latest stomach growl bounced off the four walls that Angela finally gave in. Hunger heavily outweighed the lazy comfort of reminiscing about last night.

With a reluctant sigh, Angela pushed herself up, maneuvering herself to the edge of the bed. For the life of her, she couldn’t find any of her clothes. A brief memory of her clothing being flung to the four corners of the earth solved the mystery. “Sounds about right.” She grabbed the nearest thing that would do, a white button down hanging off the bed post.

Her steps barely made a sound as she emerged from the room, hands busy buttoning the shirt and eyes flickering up every now and then to make sure she didn’t bump into the wall. As she got the last button in place, Angela was proud of herself for finding the kitchen. It was small, her dashing stranger standing in the middle humming next to the stove. She took a moment to admire the view.

“Sleepyhead’s finally up.”

Angela blushed at the nickname and at the prospect of being caught staring. “I don’t normally get to sleep in.” When a dazzling smile shone her way, Angela had to grab onto the counter to keep herself from falling over.

“I thought it was cute. Do you always smile in your sleep?”

She shrugged, feeling her face heat up even more. “Maybe.” Blindly reaching for a bar stool, Angela hoisted herself onto it. She was itching to change the subject, to redirect the focus off her. “What smells so good?”

“Lunch.”

Blue eyes widened in surprise. “What time is it?” She watched as the woman fished out her phone from her sweatpants.

“12:27.”

This was a first. “It’s already past noon.” The words were muffled by the shirt as Angela buried her head in her arms. She heard a plate being placed in front of her and the sound of the bar stool shifting beside her.

“If you need to go I can take you wherever or call a cab for you.”

Angela peaked an eye out, taking in the concerned look on the woman’s face. Quite frankly, it was endearing. “No, no. It’s just that you were, _are_ , so wonderful. And when you asked me to stay, I said yes. I never say yes, let alone stay for lunch.” She lifted her head from her arms, looking down at the counter as she continued. “I kind of feel embarrassed that I don’t even know your name even though I’ve stayed so long already.”

“Fareeha.”

“Fareeha.” Angela felt herself smiling as she repeated the name.

“Sounds even better when you say it.”

A giggle. “Angela.”

“It’s not sleepyhead?”

“Unfortunately, it’s not.” More laughter escaped at the exaggerated expression of shock on Fareeha’s face.

Fareeha picked up her spoon, finally starting to eat before her food could get cold. “I have a very important question for you Angela.”

“Ask away.” The effortless way Fareeha spoke to her made Angela feel more comfortable. It was like they always knew each other.

“Can I see you again?”

It took about .3 seconds for Angela to respond. “Yes.” She hid a grin behind a sleeve when Fareeha did a small fist pump.

“I like your shirt by the way. Looks good on you.”

She narrowed her eyes at the way Fareeha smirked at her. “Thank you, it’s a favorite of mine.” She’s only been wearing it for less than an hour, but she had fond memories of sliding it off strong arms and watching it drop to the floor. It might as well be her favorite shirt. She finally picked up her spoon when Fareeha was caught off guard by the comment.

Fareeha found herself smiling at the counter at the implication of Angela’s response. She remembered all too clearly the way the other woman bit her lip as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt. How blue eyes sparked with desire as the shirt found its way to the floor. Blinking out of the memory, Fareeha brought her eyes back to the shirt. It was quickly becoming her favorite as well.

“Fareeha?”

Eyes snapped to Angela’s. “Hmm?”

The spoon scraped against the place as Angela finished her meal. “Would you help me find my clothes? I should be leaving soon. My roommate’s probably freaking out about now.”

Fareeha just smiled, happy to help. “Of course. They kind of did fly everywhere.”

“And who’s fault was that?” Sliding off the barstool, Angela started making her way back to Fareeha’s room. The sound of footsteps followed behind her.

“You know, I wouldn’t say anyone was at fault.”

“Oh really?” Angela stood by the bedroom door, watching as Fareeha walked in and turned on the lights.

“I like to think of it as a mutual understanding.” Fareeha walked straight to her dresser, already reaching behind it to grab the discarded skirt she saw that morning. “But if it _was_ my fault, I can only imagine it was because of my dazzling personality. But you can’t really blame me for that.”

Angela plucked the skirt out of Fareeha’s hands, placing it neatly on the bed. “I can but I’ll choose not to. Just this once.” Blue eyes caught sight of black underwear poking out from under the bed. She quickly retrieved it and placed it with her skirt. When she turned around, Fareeha was dangling the rest of her clothes in the air in front of her.

“I’ll let you get dressed.”

Taking the clothing from Fareeha, Angela reaching up on her toes and gave the other woman a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

-

Fareeha drove Angela back home after she got dressed. They had exchanged numbers before leaving, planning to meet up for lunch soon. Angela was the one to insist on lunch because it had suddenly become her favorite meal to eat.

The whole ride there was a big exposition of Fareeha’s love of classic rock and her singing skills. It didn’t take long for Angela to start singing along. By the time they got to the blonde’s apartment complex, the two of them were a smiling mess.

A man started to approach the car, arms crossed and face molded into a frown. He tapped the window as a Fareeha put on the brakes.

“Oh god.”

“This your roommate?” Fareeha asked.

“Yes, and I’m sorry in advance.”

Angela lowered the window and gave her roommate her best disarming smile. “Jesse.”

“Who’s this?”

“Fareeha.”

“And you didn’t think to call me so I didn’t have to worry about you all night?”

Angela blushed. “I was preoccupied.”

“I can see that.” Focusing on the driver instead, Jesse leaned into the window. “You better be the best thing since sliced bread because I didn’t get any sleep worrying over her.”

Fareeha nodded vigorously. “You have my word. Better than sliced bread.”

He cracked a smile. “Well alright.” He tapped the passenger door once and stepped back, directing his gaze towards Angela. “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

Angela let out a deep breath at the sight of Jesse’s retreating form. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” Fareeha waved off the apology. “He just cares about you.”

“You know he’s going to be asking every question about you as soon as I walk through the door.”

“I figured.”

She leaned over to the driver’s side and gave the woman another kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be sure to tell him how wonderful you are, dazzling personality and all.”

“I think it’s important that you stress my great smile.”

“Mmhm.”

“Oh, and that I can cook well.”

“Of course.”

“And that I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Me too.” Angela reached for the door handle, pulling it slowly. “I’ll see you soon.”

Fareeha nodded, finding herself smiling. “Soon.”

-

“You sleep with her?” Jesse wasted no time in questioning Angela as soon as she got inside.

“Yes, best night of my life.”

“So, you’re gonna see her again?”

“That’s the plan.”

He stood quiet for a moment, finally uncrossing his arms with a sigh. “I’m not done asking questions.” A yawn escaped his mouth. “But I’m tired as hell. We’ll pick this up later.”

Angela sighed too, exaggeratedly rolling her eyes. “I’ll be waiting with baited breath.”

He grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

 

 


	4. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela tried so hard to make dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys it's me again, TheSoundOfThunderstorms. This prompt, Dinner, follows from the previous prompt, Lunch. Still Pharmercy. Hope you enjoy :)

She barely had any counter space with everything crowding her kitchen. It was early in the afternoon when Angela decided to get started on the dinner she had planned for about a week. Her and Fareeha had been dating for a bit now and she wanted to do something special. Namely, cook dinner.

Her arms were close to her body as she wedged a space for herself on the counter to cut the apples she peeled. Just as she cut the last apple, her doorbell rang. Gently placing the knife down, Angela wedged her way out of the kitchen to see who it was.

When she opened the door, Lena basically pushed her way by the blonde, taking a seat on the couch.

“Guess what Angela?”

“You’re too comfortable in my apartment?”

Lena shook her head, chuckling at the response. “No. I finally found the book you let me borrow. I just finished it yesterday.” She pulled out said book from out of nowhere and tossed it to the coffee table.

Blues eyes twitched at the sight of the book being treated poorly. “Did you like it?” She automatically went to pick it up, taking it to the bookshelf on the other side of the room.

“Oh yeah, it was great. My favorite part was anything that had to do with the mermaids.”

“I had a feeling they’d be your favorite.” Glancing back towards the kitchen, Angela was reminded that she was. “Did you need anything else Lena? I’m sort of busy in the kitchen.

Brown eyes sparkled at the words. “Oh? You cooking for your new girlfriend?” She waggled her eyebrows, laughing at Angela’s responding sigh. “Need any help?”

It probably was a bad idea, but Angela couldn’t deny that the help would help. “Yeah, I could use some extra hands.”

“You won’t regret it love.”

Ten minutes later, Angela wished she had politely kicked out the other woman.

“Hey where’s Jesse?”

“Oh, I told him not to come back until tomorrow.” Angela heard a soft crunch behind her but paid it no mind. She had forgotten to marinate the meat so that’s where her focus was.

“So, you’re planning a _very_ special night.” She swallowed a mouthful of food and continued. “I get it, can’t imagine the walls are very thick here. I’d send Jesse packing too.”

Angela dropped the last piece of meat into the bowl of marinade, spinning around in a flurry to face Lena. Any and all indignant responses died on her tongue when she saw the second to last piece of apple disappear into Lena’s mouth. She didn’t have any more. “Lena!”

“What?” She popped the last piece into her mouth and quirked her head to the side when Angela looked like she was about to lose it. She shrugged her shoulders. “You want to shag your girlfriend, nothing to be ashamed about.”

Shaking hands covered in marinade hovered in the air as Angela tried her best not to touch anything. “You ate the apples. I needed those for the pie.” Little droplets of dark liquid dripped to the floor from the controlled shaking of her hands.

“I thought you just had those out for a snack.”

“I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of pealing them if they were just for a snack.”

“Oh.” Lena finally had the decency to look embarrassed, brown eyes looking everywhere but at the frustrated woman standing in front of her.

“You know-”

Lena pulled out her phone, going for the old ‘someone is calling me excuse’. “I should probably go.” She unlocked her screen pretending to check who was ‘calling’ her. “Yep, that’s Emily calling right now.” Feet started moving on their own, walking in the direction of the front door. “I’ll see you later, okay? Hope your night goes well!”

Before Angela knew it, Lena was out the door.

“I..” She looked down at her hands and slowly walked to the sink. “I guess I’m not making pie anymore.”

-

A heavenly aroma filled the apartment from a job well done. Angela had placed the marinated meat in the over after they had soaked for a couple of hours. They had been slowly baking away, filling the kitchen with mouth-watering smells.

She nearly groaned when her doorbell ringed for the second time that day. “Just politely ask whoever it is to leave. That’s all you have to do.”

The ringing was accompanied by a powerful knocked. Angela groaned at the sound. She knew exactly who it was.

“Angela! Do you have a moment to talk? I just remembered the story I wanted to tell you!”

“Actually Wilhelm, if you could save your story for another time? I’m preoccupied at the moment.”

The old man just laughed, the sound booming throughout the hallway. “It won’t take long. You’ll be back to whatever it is you were doing soon.”

Something in the back of her head told her that it was a bad idea. She was just too damn polite to heed her own warning. “Alright, just for a couple of minutes.”

“So back when I was a young man…”

By all means, it was an impressive story. She wasn’t too sure on how accurate it was, or if he was just making it all up. But it was good, and Angela didn’t really notice the time pass by as they stood in her doorway reliving the fairytale like past of the old man.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, were you cooking?”

“Huh?” The smell of burning food finally registered and it sent her into a panic. “No, no, no.” She nearly pulled out her own hair when frustrated hands made their way into her hair. “Damnit.” She nearly started running back to the kitchen when her neighbor spoke up.

“I could help with your burned food. Make it taste like nothing happened.”

Angela grabbed onto his sleeve, taking approximately 2 seconds to accept his offer of help. “This way.” She led him to the small kitchen, standing him right in front of the oven. “I’ll be so grateful if you can save it.”

“Not a problem!” Grabbing the oven mitts that barely fit over his hands, Wilhelm opened the over to retrieve the burned meat. He made a face as the tray was place onto the stove.

“What’s that face for?”

“Nothing, nothing!” A guilty eye roamed over the charred landscape of once edible meat. “I can fix this.”

Angela could only watch on in horror as her neighbor picked up a knife and proceeded to cut off the burned bits of meat. The longer he hacked away, the more she realized that the whole damn dish was just blackened bits of inedible meat.

“Wilhelm…”

“Just you watch Angela, it’ll taste great.”

“Just stop.”

He sighed and put the knife down. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“I appreciate that you tried to fix this but we both know it’s not edible.” Angela reached out and grabbed onto his arm, leading him out of the kitchen and back to the front door. “We can finish the story later okay?”

“I’m sorry Angela.”

“Don’t worry about.”

-

It had finally gotten dark and all Angela had to show for her efforts was the emergency spaghetti she whipped up. The spare time she had was used to clean up the kitchen and air out her apartment.

Angela jumped out of her haze when the door opened suddenly. She groaned at the sight of her roommate. “Jesse, what are you doing here?”

Hands held up, Jesse slowly made his way inside. “I’ll only be here a minute. Just forgot something. Don’t worry, you and your sweetheart will be able to tear each other’s clothes off in peace.”

“Just get whatever it is you left behind.”

“You don’t sound like you’re in a good mood.”

“I’m not.”

“Is it Fareeha? I can give her a good talkin’ too.”

Angela let out a held breath. “No, it’s just things didn’t turn out how I wanted them too. I had to make spaghetti instead.”

“I love spaghetti.”

“I know you do, but spaghetti isn’t exactly romantic.”

“To me it is.” The answering glare gave him all he needed. “Alright, alright. I’ll be out of your hair in a bit.”

Whatever Jesse was looking for, the noise coming out of his room sounded like he was tearing it apart. Angela used the opportunity to get dressed, finally changing out of the shirt that smelled like smoke. When she finally was done getting ready, she found Jesse in the kitchen with a forkful of noodles in his hand as he tried to dip it in the spaghetti sauce.

“What are you doing Jesse?”

Startled, he turned around in a hurry, elbow smacking down on the handle of the saucepan. His eyes widened in horror as the pan flipped off the stove and onto the ground, splattering red sauce everywhere. The words couldn’t even leave his mouth. There was no fixing it.

“I…”

Angela couldn’t look away at the mess on the floor. Her skin was boiling with barely contained rage, lips pressed together tight to hold back the thousands of words threatening to spill out of her mouth.

“Angela look I’m sorry.” He was scratching his head, trying his best to come up with a way to fix everything. “Just give me a minute to clean this up and make you something halfway decent.”

“Just go.”

“I can-”

“Please.”

“Sorry.” Stuffing his hands in his jeans, he carefully stepped over the mess of sauce and made his way out of the apartment. He barely made a sound as the door shut quietly behind him.

-

When Fareeha knocked on the door, no one answered. She had tried calling Angela, but she got no response. The only thing keeping her from leaving was the light coming from beneath the door. “Here goes nothing.”

She reached out and grabbed the door know, slowly turning it until she could push the door open. Concerned eyes immediately spotted her girlfriend on the couch. She was staring up at the ceiling, an arm draped over her forehead.

“Hey, sorry for just walking in.” She took a seat on the edge of a cushion. “What’s going on?”

“Do you like spaghetti Fareeha?”

“Yeah, spaghetti is fine.”

“How about just spaghetti noodles?”

There was something obviously wrong. “Did something happen?”

“I wanted to make you dinner. And now all I have to give you is spaghetti noodles. Maybe floor sauce if you’re into that.”

Fareeha chuckled at the last part. “I could be into floor sauce.”

Angela brought her arm down, watery eyes finally looking at her girlfriend. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, if you made it then I’m into it.” She smiled when Angela laughed. “So, problem solved?”

“I’m not going to make you eat floor sauce Fareeha.”

“It doesn’t sound that bad.” She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Angela’s jaw.

It tickled when Fareeha got closer, peppering her face with feather light kisses. It was impossible to feel miserable when her girlfriend was determined enough. Still giggling, she wrapped her arms around Fareeha’s neck pulling her in impossibly close. “Let’s just order in and pretend I made it.”

“Sounds delicious already. Can we get noodles?” She laughed when a hand moved from her neck to lightly pinch her arm.

“I don’t want to see a single noodle for the rest of the night.”

“I can live with that.”

 

 


	5. Late Night Snack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! This little chapter is for the "midnight snack" prompt, written by Barna. Oh and it's Pharmercy of course. I hope you enjoy!

Angela woke up to an audible rumble of her stomach in the middle of the night. It took some time for her to register the cause because she was so sleepy, but then she realised that she was in fact quite hungry as well. She let out an annoyed huff, getting up now would be so uncomfortable.... She was practically locked in Fareeha’s arms as they slept on their sides, or rather, as Fareeha still slept and Angela was now fully awake because of the demanding hunger in her stomach. She sighed as the position was so comfortable and the last thing she wanted to do was get up, but at the same time she was starving and she knew she probably couldn’t go back to sleep like this.

Eventually the hunger got the better of her, and she decided that she would get up, a quick snack wouldn’t hurt anyone, after all. Now onto the next step, untangling herself from her lover’s arms. She contemplated waking up Fareeha, but that would just be rude, so she settled on slowly peeling the other’s muscular arms off of herself. She only realised how nice it was to be held after the warmth started to give way to the cool night air, and she almost regretted her decision to get up, but no going back now. Or is there?

Just as she was starting to sit up, the same warm hands wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her back onto the soft sheets. She yelped in surprise as Fareeha held her tightly against herself, this time she was awake and Angela could barely move the other’s embrace was so strong. “Mhhm, ya amar, where are you going?” Fareeha’s voice was muffled from sleepiness and because her head was buried in Angela’s soft hair as she inhaled deeply.

Angela just chuckled and tried to squirm her way out of the other’s firm grasp, but Fareeha clearly didn’t want to let her go as she held her so tightly. “I’m hungry, Schatzi. I don’t want to get up, either, but otherwise I can’t go back to sleep…”

All Fareeha responded with was a sleepy groan as she wrapped her arms around Angela even tighter and pulled her in halfway under her to be as close possible. “But I just want to hold you… Don’t go… Not yet...”

Angela’s heart melted at the affection in her lover’s voice, and she hummed in acceptance as she could move even less now that Fareeha was draped over her. A few minutes passed like that, and Angela started to worry that she might stay trapped under the other soon if she doesn’t do anything. “Fareeha, don’t fall asleep on me, then I really won’t be able to get up…”

The soldier sighed heavily and rolled a bit to the side to give her some space while still holding her close. “Fine, but I still don’t want to let go of you, so…” In one swift motion she pulled the blanket around the surprised Angela, and reacher under her to find a good grip on her wrapped-up girlfriend. The medic couldn’t hold back a laugh as Fareeha rose from the bed and started carrying her with eyes half-closed. She was held so that Fareeha could keep her close while not having to be afraid of letting the sheets slip out from her hands, and Angela stuck out her arms from under the covers to hook them around the other’s neck for support. They slowly stumbled in the dark towards the kitchen, and even though Fareeha was barely awake, she made sure to keep Angela safe and not bump her into anything on the way.

They always left a dim light on in the kitchen, so it was easier to navigate once they got there. At this point Angela finally managed to stop giggling, and she placed a loving kiss onto Fareeha’s cheek. The soldier hummed affectionately and she started lowering the other in front of the fridge, but she didn’t let go of her completely. In fact, she stood there, slightly rocking Angela from side to side while her chin rested on her shoulder as the medic opened the fridge door to take a peek inside. There was some yogurt and a bit of cake left that they made a few days ago, so she settled for that and took them out of the fridge. Fareeha’s sleepy voice came from right next to her ear. “Eating sweets this late at night? Mmm, guess I’ll just have more, or rather, thicker things to hold soon…”

Angela scoffed and turned her head around to give her lover a peck on the edge of her mouth. “Hey, it’s just a little snack… We can, umm, work it off in the morning you know…” That earned a curious hum, and Fareeha’s hands immediately wandered to places that would have made Angela gasp if the blanket wasn’t still on her. Her voice, already low from sleepiness, turned a lot huskier as she whispered in Angela’s ear.

“Hmm, we’ll have to remember that, I wouldn’t want to keep you from  _ eating _ the things you love so much…” Just as the medic’s cheeks began to flush, Fareeha scooped her up again and started heading back to the bedroom, Angela still holding the box with the slice of cake and the yogurt in one hand while she hooked her other arm around Fareeha’s neck for support. She even went as far as taking a bite of the cake while she was being carried back to the warmth of their bed, humming contently as she finally got what she wanted.

When they arrived, Fareeha practically fell onto the bed, bringing Angela with her. She managed to keep her food from falling or spilling onto the bed thankfully, and she sat up while Fareeha got comfortable again, nuzzling close to her. Angela turned on her reading lamp, earning an annoyed whine from Fareeha as she buried her face into the blanket that Angela was still wrapped in. The medic just smiled as she continued to eat, making short work of the cake and then moving onto the yogurt. By the time she finished with the late night meal, Fareeha was starting to doze off again, and Angela turned off the light with a chuckle. She slid lower, letting Fareeha embrace her and place a drowsy kiss on her hair.

“Finally…” That’s all that Fareeha managed to whisper before falling asleep, Angela following her example soon after in the warm safety of her lover’s arms.


	6. Dessert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha stares blankly at Angela for a moment longer than the good doctor is comfortable with. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I heard you right. You did what?”
> 
> “I said I signed us up for a bake sale at Marie’s school, schatz.” Angela repeats herself, motioning toward the kitchen table buried beneath shopping bags. “About one hundred cupcakes by Friday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Note: This chapter is by the wonderful [budgiebum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/budgiebum/pseuds/budgiebum)!))

Fareeha stares blankly at Angela for a moment longer than the good doctor is comfortable with. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I heard you right. You did what?” 

“I said I signed us up for a bake sale at Marie’s school,  _ schatz _ .” Angela repeats herself, motioning toward the kitchen table buried beneath shopping bags. “About one hundred cupcakes by Friday.” 

“And what possessed you to do this?” she asks, pinching the bridge of her nose to fight off the impending headache. 

“It’s to raise money for the other children whose families may not be able to afford the expense of educational field trips. Marie was rather upset at the thought of her classmates being left behind and you know I can’t say no to her.” Angela pulls Fareeha closer, gently nudging the hand away so she can caress her cheek. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” she says, tracing Fareeha’s tattoo with her thumb. 

Fareeha gives a small pout, muttering about how they could have just written a check .

“Where’s the fun in that? Now let’s get started.” Angela gives Fareeha's forearm a squeeze before heading to the kitchen. 

“ _ Ya rouhi, _ ” Fareeha starts after her before a small figure comes racing down the hallway, slamming into her side. “Oof. Marie, we said no running in the house,” she chastises their daughter, ruffling the seven year old’s hair.

“Sorry, mama.” Marie squeezes Fareeha’s leg. “I’m excited! We’re going to make cupcakes!” Faster than anyone can blink, she releases Fareeha and skips into the kitchen with Angela, peering at all the ingredients. 

Angela chuckles at their daughter's antics, handing her small items to set on the counter. She follows with some of the heavier items, testing the buttermilk to see if it’s room temperature yet. “Seems alright.”

Fareeha washes her hands and begins to pull mixing bowls from the cabinets while Marie pulls a stool to stand on between them. “Don’t you two forget to wash your hands, too.” She waits patiently for Angela to help their daughter wash up. “It looks like we have everything for vanilla and chocolate cupcakes?”

“Mhm. Variety is the spice of life, after all,” Angela says with a smile, pulling measuring cups out of drawers. “So, what now?” 

“We follow the recipe cards mom gave us.” Fareeha points to the cards on the table. “I’m not as awful at baking as you are, but we still need to follow those.”

Now it’sAngela who sticks out her lower lip, eyes narrowed at her wife. “I’m not  _ awful _ at it.”

“ _ Ya amar, _ you’ve set water on fire before.”

“There was something in the burner under the pot!” Angela retorts in defense of herself. “But speaking of the oven…” she turns and sets it to preheat.

Fareeha laughs, wiping a nonexistent tear from her eyes. “Checking that is pretty basic, you know?  So my point still stands. Let’s follow the cards and everything should be fine.” She pulls Angela to her side and places a kiss on her temple. “You’re too fun to tease.” 

“Mama, stop being gross! We need to make cupcakes!” 

The pair chuckle at their daughter's antics. Angela retrieves the cards and squints at the faded handwriting. “It says to mix dry ingredients and wet ingredients in separate bowls. Let's get all the dry done first?”   
  
Nodding, Fareeha sets a larger mixing bowl in front of Marie who has settled between them. “This says it yields a dozen, so we need to double the ingredients for now,” she pauses, noting Angela’s confusion at the math, “for  _ now _ dear. We can do it again after we have the first 24 made and the pans cool. We only have two.” 

“I guess I should have bought a couple more when I picked up the carriers,” Angela says with a frown.

“No it’s fine. We wouldn’t want to put too many in to bake at once anyway. First let’s add the flour.” Fareeha spoons the powder into the cup till it’s full and uses a butter knife to level it off. “Marie, would you like to dump it?” 

A large grin splits Marie’s face as she hops excitedly on her stool, reaching out for the cup. Her small fingers miss and knock into it. Three sets of eyes watch as the cup falls in slow motion before producing a mushroom cloud of flour as it hits the ground. Tears are welling in small brown eyes before the dust has even fully settled over their shoes. “I’m sorry, mama. I didn’t mean to!” she cries, lip trembling. 

Angela pulls the small child into a hug, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Shh, darling, it’s alright. Accidents happen. Didn’t mama just remind us how I set water on fire?” She smiles at the delicate, muffled ‘yes’ she receives. “Yes she did. Accidents happen to everyone. Let’s sweep this up and try again, okay?” 

Marie pulls back and gives a small nod, still not meeting her mother’s azure gaze. “Okay, mommy. I’m still sorry.”

“We know, little one.” Fareeha is already sweeping the mess into a dustpan. “How about I help you fill the cup and dump it this time?” She smiles down at Marie.

“Yes, mama.”

Fareeha dumps the flour in the waste bin and tosses the cup in the sink to wash later, retrieving another from the drawers. “Good thing we got so many of these as wedding gifts, huh?” 

Angela laughs and leans over to kiss her on the cheek. “Apparently one  _ can’t _ have too many measuring cups. Guess I was wrong.” 

They help their daughter measure out all the dry ingredients and add them to the large bowl. Fareeha holds her tiny hand to the whisk as they carefully mix them together. “Slowly now, we don’t want any to come out of the bowl. There that looks good. Great job, Marie!” She beams at her daughter. “How are the wet ingredients coming, Angela?” She looks over in time to see Angela crack an egg too hard against the counter top. Panic spreads across the blonde’s face as the escaping goo begins to drip across the surface, causing Fareeha to laugh. 

“Ugh, did I do it too hard?” she asks, lifting the mess higher from the counter, cupping it with her other hand. 

Fareeha slides a small bowl under her hands. “A little, here just set the whole thing in there and I’ll fix it.” She takes the mangled egg from the bowl, pressing her thumb tips into the crack and pulling it apart. “That’s not too bad,” she says, using a spoon to fish the bits of shell out. Fareeha demonstrates how to gently crack the shell and pull it apart. Her heart warms at the concentration Angela gives to measure the rest of the wet ingredients. 

“What’s next, mommy?”

Brushing sugar from the index card, Angela skims to find the next step. “We add half the wet ingredients to the dry and stir. Repeat until everything is ‘just’ combined as the recipe card says. Fareeha, do you think you and your big, strong muscles are up to the task?” She shoots her wife a wink.

“Of course,” she says, flexing for her girls. Marie giggles and it warms her even further. “You two can put the liners in the pan while I mix.” 

Once everything is combined and the pans are ready, Fareeha carefully spoons the mixture into the liners.

“Careful mama it said only half way!” Their daughter chastises as she scrutinizes the pans. 

Angela bursts out laughing, settling a hand on the child’s head. “Darling, mama knows what she’s doing, trust her. Our cupcakes will be the best.”

Fareeha puts the pans in the pre-heated oven and sets a timer. “Alright, in twenty minutes we can take them out. Now let’s make some frosting. Looks like we’re making buttermilk frosting?” 

“Yes!” Angela exclaims, excitement gleaming in her eyes. “It’s my favorite and I figured it would go with both flavors.” 

“Sounds perfect to me,” Fareeha calls over her shoulder as she pulls a small mixer from under the counter. “This is fairly easy. Butter, sugar, cream, vanilla, and salt.” 

Angela hums, scooting everything they need together. She turns around to shuffle through a drawer for the paddle attachment. When she turns back, she catches Marie sticking a finger in the powdered sugar. “Marie, no. Don’t stick your hands in there.”

She sticks the sugar coated finger in the mouth and licks it clean. “But it’s good, mommy.” 

Rolling her eyes, Angela picks her up and carries her back to the sink to wash their hands again. “Yes, but you shouldn’t do that, darling. It’s not nice. You can have a sweet cupcake when we’re done, but you can’t stick your hands in the ingredients, alright?” 

“Yes, mommy,” the little girl dries her hands staring at the ground.

Angela kisses the top of her head. “Thank you. Now let’s watch mama make frosting. Maybe if you’re good she’ll let you taste it.” 

Her daughter's eyes light up as she scampers back to the counter next to Fareeha. She watches in wonder as her mother turns the various ingredients into delicious buttercream frosting. 

“Let’s see how this tastes,” she says, dipping a lean spoon into the mixture. She licks the tip and gives a satisfied hum. Swiping some from the underside of the spoon with her finger, she turns to Angela. “Here, try it.” Fareeha holds her finger out to her wife.

Angela leans forward, intent on taking the frosting covered finger in her mouth, but it moves before she can close in. Before she can blink, she feels the digit boop her nose, leaving the frosting in its wake. 

Fareeha doubles over laughing as Angela stares at her nose, cross eyed. She reaches down and does the same to their daughter.

“Mama!” the little girl shrieks, slapping Fareeha’s thigh with her small hands, causing the woman to laugh harder. 

Taking her own clean spoon, Angela grabs her own ammunition. She connects the frosting covered spoon directly with Fareeha’s shocked face, smirking in victory. Tossing the now dirty spoon in the sink, Angela leans over and kisses the frosting from Fareeha’s cheek.

“Eeeeeeeew,” Marie groans.

They share another laugh, interrupted when the timer goes off. Fareeha dons their lobster claw oven mitts and pulls both pans from the oven. She sets them on top of the burners and turns to her wife, “Hey, can you set the cooling racks over there,” she tips her head toward the far side of the counters. Once she’s tested the cupcakes for doneness, she sets them on the cooling racks. 

The family takes a quick snack break in the living room to let the cupcakes cool and the frosting chill in the fridge. “This is surprisingly fun,” Fareeha says, dipping another pretzel into the hummus. 

Angela smirks at her. “I knew it would be.” 

Scoffing, Fareeha stuffs the food in her mouth to keep from commenting. 

“I’m having fun,” Marie chimes in from between them, kicking her legs against the bottom of the couch. 

“And we’re so glad for that, darling.” Angela leans into their small daughter, hugging her tightly. Her smile broadens as she feels a strong arm wrap around them and pull them close. 

“I love you both so much,” Fareeha murmurs into Angela’s hair. 

“We love you, too, _liebling._ ” Angela pats her wife’s thigh.

“Yeah we love you too, mama.” Marie says, not wanting to be left out.

Fareeha gives them both another squeeze before releasing them to stand. “I think we can frost our first batch of cupcakes. Are you girls ready?” 

Marie flies off the couch and into the kitchen, shouting that she’s ready. Angela tries to stifle a giggle, extending a hand to Fareeha who gladly helps her up.

They free the cupcakes from their metal prison, inhaling their sweet scent deeply. “I’ll show you both how to frost one and then you can do your own,” Fareeha says as she pulls out three clean butter knives. She expertly frosts her first cupcakes, showing them both how to smooth the tops for a perfect finish. 

Angela takes a few cakes, setting aside four that Marie will do, and starts her task. She’s fairly satisfied with her frosting job. It’s spiky, but even. The indignant grunt from the child beside her pulls the attention of the room.

“Are you doing alright, Marie?” Fareeha asks, leaning over. She eyes her daughter’s cupcakes, uneven, lumpy, and spiky as well.

“They don’t look like yours! They’re not perfect!” the little girl cries, lower lip jutting out.

“Marie, they’re perfect because you made them. Plus they look just like mommy’s cupcakes with their spiky tops,” she says with a hearty laugh, causing Angela to blush. 

Clearing her throat, Angela smiles down at their distraught child. “Yes darling, they’re perfect because you made them. You tried your hardest and that’s what counts.”

“I guess you’re right,” she mutters, poking at the spiky frosting of one of her cupcakes. 

Sighing, Fareeha moves Marie’s hand from the frosting and takes the small cake from the batch. “Sweetheart you can’t keep putting your hands in the food you make for others. We wash our hands to keep clean, but it’s still not good to do.” She pauses, seeing the pout reform and deepen. “But what that does mean is that you can eat this cupcake and tell us if it’s good.” Fareeha watches their daughter’s face quickly morph to joy as she snatches the cupcake from Fareeha’s hand. 

Tiny fingers peel the wrapping back and smash the cupcake into a wide open mouth, causing a mess of icing to smear across her cheeks. Marie struggles with the massive bite she’s taken, but she smiles the entire time. “Iwf gud,” she tries to say through the mouthful. 

Near cackling, Angela hands Fareeha a hand towel to wipe their daughter’s face with. “Darling you shouldn’t talk with your mouth full, but I take it we did a good job on the cupcakes?”

Marie nods her head furiously, making Fareeha’s job of wiping her face that much more difficult. 

“Hold still, you rascal,” Fareeha chides, finally getting the rest of the frosting off. “Let’s put these finished ones into a carrier for safe keeping and get started on the next batch.” 

“Okay!” Marie shouts, running to the table and grabbing one of the new carriers. 

“Thank you for this, Fareeha. She’s so happy.”

Fareeha wraps her arms around Angela’s waist, pulling her into a hug. “Yeah, she really is. Seeing the both of you happy brings me so much joy.” 

Angela rests her head on Fareeha’s shoulder, hands trailing up her wife’s strong arms. “Me too.” 

“You’re being gross again,” Marie complains, trying to wiggle in between them. 

They laugh and pull her into their hug, causing her to laugh and push against them both. 

“Enough silliness for now. Let’s get these put away.” Fareeha says, releasing Angela. 

“Yeah, mama! We have lots to make!”

“We sure do,” Fareeha says with a warm smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the diabetes.


	7. Fast Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela and Fareeha go out for lunch.

Angela was tired. Too tired to even function properly. She’d decided to spend her lunch holed up in her office with her personal coffee maker. It was almost empty. Which simply wouldn’t do if she wanted to get through the rest of her shift awake. She spent a good five minutes looking at the last cup’s worth of coffee inside of the glass pot. Waiting for it to magically refill with the liquid energy.

She entertained getting someone to refill the pot. The receptionist was her first choice, but that didn’t seem very fair to her, since she never shared any of it with her. Still sitting in her plush office chair, she checked her appointment schedule and found that there were still several more patients to see after her designated lunch hour where she had no appointments.

She rolled over to her coffee pot and refilled her cup while still sitting down. It probably wasn’t the safest thing to do, but Angela didn’t really care at the moment.

She sipped at her warm beverage for a minute before her receptionist called.

Taking another sip to prepare herself to have an intelligible conversation, Angela answered the phone, “Dr. Ziegler.”

“Yes, Dr. Ziegler, there’s a Fareeha Amari here to see you? She says you agreed to have lunch with her today?” Angela didn’t know why, but anything her receptionist said sounded like a question or a suggestion.

Angela pulled the phone away from her face as she checked her desk for any sticky notes she’d left herself to remind her of the agreement. Her cheeks tinged pink when she found it in the corner of her computer screen. She remembered choosing the bright neon pink color and sticking it on her monitor to make sure that she didn’t forget.

_Damn._

“Dr. Ziegler?”

Angela sighed at herself, maybe eating would help her wake up. “Yes, I’ll be right there.”

She downed her coffee in the next few moments before she made herself get up. Her entire body throbbed, her coat felt constricting, her stethoscope heavy around her neck, and her watch felt like it was bruising her wrist.

She refilled her coffee pot and started it up with a practiced ease before she shed her coat and stethoscope and left them on her desk. The watch was removed as well, but it was shoved into a drawer, the rooms had their own clock, so it wasn’t like she needed one of her own. It was just more convenient to look at her wrist when counting than the wall clock.

She hurried out of her office, her messy ponytail bouncing behind her. She gave the nurses she passed a brief smile in greeting as she headed to the front desk.

She opened the door and found Fareeha shuffling nervously in the lobby.

“Sorry that took so long, I wanted to make sure I had a pot of coffee ready when I got back.” Angela greeted.

“Don’t worry about it, I was almost afraid you had forgotten.” Fareeha laughed as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

Angela laughed awkwardly before she cleared her throat. “So, lunch?”

“Oh, right!” Fareeha dug into her pants pocket and pulled out a menu. “I went to this really great German fast food place that opened up near here recently.” The menu read, _Lichtstark Fressen_ in bold red letters.

Angela giggled, while the title could mean “fast food” it also meant “eat light”. German food was not something Angela would consider “light”.

Fareeha stuffed the menu back into her pocket, an embarrassed blush tinging her cheeks. “What? Was it dumb of me to suggest a German place? Do you not eat German food? I thought… I did some searching for Swiss fast food but, I only found chains that were not specific to Switzerland. So I researched some more, and I asked Reinhardt what you liked, and he suggested German food and maybe I should have realized, _of course_ Rein would choose a German place-”

Angela placed a comforting hand on Fareeha’s shoulder to stop her nervous rambling. “It’s alright. The name of the restaurant is funny, not you trying to do something special.” Angela smiled warmly, “This really means a lot to me.”

Fareeha smiled brightly and placed a hand on top of the one Angela had on her shoulder. “It’s nothing. Just figured I’d do something nice for the good doctor.”

They shared a smile and enjoyed the closeness for longer than what could be called “friendly”, before Fareeha blinked and the moment was broken.

“Let’s go get some food!”

_____

The restaurant was cozy, there was some quiet music playing filled with accordions and mandolins. It made the small establishment bright and cheerful. The people were wearing green aprons behind the counter. There were baked goods in a display case, and a chalkboard menu on a stand in front of it.

Angela felt a weird sense of nostalgia, which was odd because as far as she could remember, she’d never experienced a German restaurant before. It was probably the music.

One of the servers at the counter smiled warmly at them, “Welcome to the best German fast food place in town! What can I get for you?” Angela mentally snorted, it was easiest to be the best when you were the only one.

“Could you give us a few seconds? This is my friend’s first time here.” Fareeha answered pleasantly.

The server laughed, “Alright, take your time!” before busying themselves with something behind the counter.

Angela looked over the choices, nothing really seemed familiar to her. She didn’t realize she let out a tired sigh until Fareeha subtly bumped her shoulder with her own.

Looking up at the slightly taller woman, Angela raised a questioning brow.

“You wanna go somewhere else?”

Fareeha seemed a little worried, Angela wasn’t sure why until she registered that she’d just sighed.

“No, I’m just tired today. Sorry, Fareeha.”

The taller woman smiled, relieved, “Thank goodness…I mean. Wait. Sorry you’re tired. Oh no, I’m messing this up.”

Before Angela could ask what she was messing up, the server returned. “Did you figure something out?”

Angela smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know what I want.”

The server perked immediately, “Well, I personally love the dumplings. I mean, they aren’t called that on the menu, authenticity and all that, but that is essentially what it is. They are sweeter and lighter than most of the things on the menu.”

Fareeha chuckled, “I tried them last time, they’re pretty good.”

“Well alright then. Looks like I’m having dumplings for lunch.” Angela hadn’t meant for it to be funny, but the other two laughed anyway.

Fareeha ordered the same thing as well. “If you like something, why spend money on something you might not like?” She explained when Angela sent her a curious look.

“Are you two together?” The server asked.

Angela was used to the many phrases servers used to ask if the bill was separate or not. Fareeha, poor sweet Fareeha, was not. Before Angela could get her tired mind to function and answer that, yes, their order was together, Fareeha answered for them.

“Oh, no. We’re just friends. But, I mean…I’d like to be?” Fareeha answered as she turned to the hunched over doctor. “Angela?”

She tried to contain her laughter, she really did. While she _was_ flustered about Fareeha’s impromptu confession, that Fareeha didn’t know the server was asking about their order was too cute.

“I, uh….I meant your order? But, I hope things turn out for the best?” the amused server answered with a smile.

“Oh.”

Fareeha’s single word was the last straw. Angela erupted with laughter. It shouldn’t have been as funny as it was, but she had reached that plateau of tired where everything was hysterically funny. The other patrons peered around their tables and booths, but Angela paid them no mind. A few breathless moments later, she managed to control herself.

Fareeha’s entire face, neck, and ears were darkened with a blush. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she tried not to make even more of a fool of herself.

“Yes, the order’s together.” Angela answered finally. She paid for their meals to compensate her laughing at Fareeha’s mistake.

They found a booth and sat down to wait. The two of them silent.

Angela reached her hand across the table in silent offering, Fareeha looked up and gave a relieved smile as she held Angela’s hand.

“So…you’d like for us to be together?” Angela prompted.

Fareeha’s face immediately darkened again. “Forget what I said. I was just confused by his question. He could have asked if our _order_ was together.”

Angela hummed in disappointment. “Oh, really? That’s too bad.”

“What? Why?”

Angela had no idea where this confidence was coming from, she was probably too tired to be embarrassed.

“I was hoping you were going to ask me out. But, if you just want to be friends that’s fine too.”

Fareeha’s jaw went slack as her mouth opened in disbelief. She recovered quickly. “You want to…” She straightened in her seat and tightened her hold on the doctor’s hand slightly, “Angela, will you go out with me?”

Angela smiled warmly, “I’d love to.”

Fareeha did a fist pump before she could stop herself, but quickly started thanking Angela. She fidgeted in her seat with excitement, still holding Angela’s hand.

“I promise you won’t regret this! I’m going to be the best girlfriend ever! I’ll make sure you have flowers and all the nice chocolates your heart desires! And we can go on dates and hold hands when we walk and…and…other stuff.” Fareeha averted her eyes as her free hand touched her lips for a moment, obviously thinking about all the kisses they could share now.

When their order was called, Fareeha nearly skipped to go pick it up. The server gave Angela a thumb’s up when Fareeha turned her back and raised a brow.

Angela smiled and nodded ever so slightly.

He gave a bright smile of his own before he returned to helping the next customer.

They enjoyed their lunch and talked about all the places they could go on dates and how nice it would be to finally be able to hold the other’s hand like they’d always wanted to.

They ate their dumplings and Fareeha commented on how much better they were than last time.

They regretted not getting anything to drink afterwards though. No matter how good they were, they were still dumplings.

They ordered some coffee and spent a few minutes more sipping their beverages and chatting, their feet hesitantly intertwining under the table.

When they finished, they exited the restaurant, hands linked together.

When they arrived at Angela’s clinic, Fareeha took a steadying breath. She stared hopefully into Angela’s eyes before her gaze flicked down to her lips and then back up again. “Can I?”

Feeling playful, Angela teased, “Don’t you think you’re moving a little fast?”

Fareeha’s eyes widened before Angela giggled.

“Relax, I was only playing. Please Fareeha, will you kiss me?” the doctor batted her blue eyes mockingly.

“Well,” Fareeha stretched the word like she was considering it, “Since you asked so nicely.”

They both laughed, their cheeks pink. Fareeha hesitantly leaned down and Angela closed her eyes in preparation.

The doctor was surprised when she felt a pair of warm lips pressed against her cheek. She opened her eyes to find Fareeha pulling away. Angela barely noticed the other woman’s blush because her smile was so bright, it was nearly blinding.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Fareeha offered.

“You’d better.” Angela warned mischievously. Fareeha laughed happily as she waved Angela inside, holding the door open for her. They waved goodbye to each other through the glass door before Fareeha headed down the street.

Angela continued her shift with a spring in her step, she didn’t even pour another cup of coffee the rest of her shift.


	8. No Food: Snowed In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon and Overwatch are having a little tussle on the ski slopes when an avalanche locks a few of them - namely Roadhog, Winston, Sombra, and Widowmaker - inside and buries the building in snow. They'll need to put aside their differences in order to make it out. However, things take a bit of a turn when they find no food in the whole resort, but they _do_ find quite a lot of alcohol...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm Jrade! You may or may not have heard of me, heh - couple of things about this chapter!
> 
> Firstly, it's really long (just a little over 26, 000 words, heh). Secondly, it's probably less fluffy overall than the previous ones - it's silly, and it's funny, and it definitely has cute moments, but it also has bits that are more serious so hopefully people like that and don't think it counts as angst, heh.
> 
> Thanks, folks - enjoy!

Winston let out a deep growl as he leapt through the air. A bullet zipped toward him, barely nicking his arm, and the cold wind stung at it but he only bared his teeth all the wider. A broad, defiant and dangerous grin, because once again The Widowmaker had missed her shot.

He saw her eyes widen, just fractionally, as he hurtled through the air toward her like a missile. A large, muscular, angry missile - then her arm snapped out and her grapple launched, and she was off.

Winston slipped slightly on the icy patio of the resort, spinning around and trying to gather his feet to jump again. There was no need, though.

“I’ve got her, love!” Tracer chirped, appearing in a blue flash with a grin and a little salute. “You go after the powderhounds, yeah?”

“Got it!” Winston confirmed with a nod and a grin before his friend flashed through the air after the sniper, blue swirling light following blue skin. He didn’t waste another moment before turning and leaping again, off in the opposite direction - up there on the slope were the other two.

Somewhere Sombra was around as well, being a constant thorn in his side. She didn’t even actually  _ attack, _ much of the time - she generally just hurled insults while invisible. To her credit, he had to admit she was doing a good job of distracting him, but no longer.

He had a mission. They didn’t know why Talon was trying to blow up this resort, but they were going to stop it. His fists and feet pounded the snow as he raced up the slope toward the ski-lift’s pillar.

They  _ would _ stop it.

 

\---

 

Junkrat cackled delightedly as he pumped his feet back and forth, trying to swing the chair of the ski-lift. It didn’t  _ work _ , of course, because Roadhog - who was much more massive, and as a result, held much more sway over the chair’s swing - wasn’t playing along.

“Aw come on!” Junkrat snapped, crossing his arms and pouting. “You’re no fun!”

Roadhog grunted. It wasn’t his job to be fun. It wasn’t  _ really _ his job to do  _ any _ of this, but Junkrat was an absolute idiot who would get himself killed otherwise, and needed  _ somebody _ to keep his scrawny and sorry ass alive.

Of course, Roadhog didn’t exactly put that all into words. He figured a grunt would suffice.

“My ass is  _ not _ scrawny!” Junkrat protested, “and if I’m such an idiot, how’d I find that treasure map, hmmmmmmmmmmm?” He drew out the questioning sound, grinning wider and wider (and more and more smugly) as he did.

Roadhog grunted.

Deflated, Junkrat recoiled and planted a palm flat against his chest. “What! Foolish? Moi? What’s so foolish about telling every person I ever bump into that I’ve got a treasure map? Nobody’s killed me for it yet!” His eyes went a little distant as his mind ran off (as it so often did) on a tangent. “Although, I guess a few have tried. More than a few, actually - but there’s upsides, too. That purple lady seemed really nice as soon as she recognized me!”

Roadhog grunted. Again.

“What?!” Junkrat exclaimed in outrage, slapping at his knee. “That sly devious witchy devil! You really think she was just playing it up to get the map out of me?” He shrugged with a sigh. “Personally, I think it’s just my raw animal magnetism and attractive personality, but you could be right, my chubby friend. She might-” he held out a finger, narrowing his eyes at Roadhog, - _ might! _ Have more than one motive.”

This time, Roadhog didn’t grunt immediately. He met Junkrat’s eyes through his gas mask, waited for a second, and  _ then _ grunted.

Junkrat grinned. “Well  _ you _ seem to like my personality just fine! Admittedly, you’re not the best judge of character,” he brushed idly at a shoulder, turning up his nose. “Just a little bit scruffy, that’s all - not exactly dignified, mate, but it’s hardly your fault. You’re a good sort anyway - but anyway, my point was, I’m excellent!” He grinned triumphantly for a second, then frowned. “Wait, was that my point?”

Roadhog sighed and shook his head.

The mountain rang with the sounds of Junkrat’s gleeful giggle as he slapped at his knees. “Oh  _ riiiiiiiight! _ The explosions! I’d almost forgot -  _ that _ was my point! Or something about- mm, scrawniness, can’t recall - anyways!” His grin took on a fierce characteristic. “On to the explosions!”

His arm snapped out, mechanical finger extended as if to spur on a charging brigade by its command. Meanwhile, the ski-lift continued its same slow ascent up the mountainside. Junkrat held his pose for about four seconds before collapsing with a whine.

“This is bloody awful. Im _ possibly _ boring! How am I ever supposed to survive-” he cut off as a noise heralded an abrupt shift in the lift, the chair swinging out to one side, and Junkrat spun around.

There was a gorilla hanging off of the cable about a hundred feet behind the chair, scowling, and now swinging toward them hand-over-hand. The motion translated through the cable directly into the chair Junkrat and Roadhog sat in, and set it swinging firmly side to side.

“Wheee!” Junkrat giggled, kicking his legs. “Finally  _ some _ body’s willing to have a little fun!” He laughed for another few seconds before punching Roadhog lightly in the arm. “Aw, I don’t mean any offence, my tubby friend! Some people are delights to be around, and then some people - like you, for instance - are more… sticks in the mud. But don’t feel down!” He nodded sagely. “Sticks and mud can both be plenty of fun.”

Roadhog nodded with a grunt, shifting to turn his bulk around in the chair. He recognized the gorilla. He didn’t  _ like _ the gorilla. He knew that bad things would happen if the gorilla made it to the chair.

It didn’t leave a lot of options.

As Junkrat continued to babble about  _ something _ , whatever it was, Roadhog took careful aim. It wasn’t the easiest with the chair swinging, but if he was telling the truth, he also wasn’t being  _ that _ careful with his aim. Caution didn’t seem to have much of a place in this new world, it just wasn’t worth it.

Chuckling deeply, Roadhog pulled the trigger and fired.

 

\---

 

Winston leapt up and grabbed onto the cable - it was wide, and thick, and didn’t dig into his skin. It was designed to carry a lot of weight but already sagged a fair amount under the weight of the two scoundrels up in the chair.

Well, under the weight of one of them. Truthfully, Junkrat probably contributed very little to the situation in that respect, he had to admit.

Winston himself, on the other hand, added a fair bit of mass and the cable sagged more for it, swaying from side to side as he started to move forward, swinging from hand to hand.

The big one turned around and started to ready his gun. Winston double-checked the status of the jets at his back - nearly recharged for another burst, he only needed to wait another second and then-  _ done! _

As Roadhog fired, Winston let go of the cable and then switched on his jumpjets, launching himself forward through the air toward the chair. He grabbed onto it with one hand, and onto Roadhog’s gun with the other. “Oh, excuse me for  _ dropping in _ like this,” he quipped, trying to yank the weapon free.

Roadhog wasn’t about to yield it that easily. He’d lost everything when that Omnium had come down, and he was in no hurry to lose his gun or anything ever again. The new world could have something from him when it finally managed to kill him and pry it from his clenched bloody fists. He squeezed the trigger again, another blast echoing out across the mountainside.

 

\---

 

Sombra sat on the rooftop, legs crossed at the knees, tossing the last M&M from the package up into the air. It flew in a high graceful arc against the clear blue sky and glinted in the harsh Alpine sunlight before she caught it and crunched it happily between her teeth.

“Heh, nice,” she congratulated herself.

Somewhere below, Widowmaker shot at something. Probably the monkey, judging by the shouted grunt. WIth a sigh, Sombra pushed herself to her feet as she heard the grappling hook bite into the edge of her roof. A second later, the assassin was there.

“Hey, hot stuff. Bring me any nice gifts? Little snowglobe maybe?” Sombra quirked an eyebrow.

Widowmaker huffed, her breath not clouding in the cold air, but her cheeks  _ did _ look a little more purple than usual. “But of  _ course _ I did,  _ cherie.” _ She dropped down into the snow, rolling forward on one knee as a blue swirl zipped up onto the rooftop behind her. “There it is now, your gift.”

“Cheers, love!” Tracer chirped as she realigned with the standard timestream, pulse pistols blazing bright blue against the white and green backdrop of the mountain. “The cavalry’s- aww crum. Um.” She stopped shooting and tapped a finger against the glass of her Chronal Accelerator as the light dimmed, purple trails tracing from it back to Sombra’s fingertips.

“Heh,” Tracer grinned awkwardly between the pair of them, “well, I’ll just be um-”

As Widowmaker raised her rifle - halfheartedly, and with no intention of firing - Tracer leapt backward off of the roof.

Sombra snickered, waving.  _ “Adios, amiga! _ Hey next time bring me a snowglobe or something.” Then she turned away from the departed Brit to raise an eyebrow to Widowmaker and cross her arms. “Really,  _ Arañita? That _ was your present?”

Widowmaker shrugged easily, stepping forward. “You did not like it, so you returned it. I fail to see the issue here.”

Sombra snickered as her partner - in crime and in bed, too, at least sometimes - stepped forward and brought her rifle to bear, scoping in on the mountainside where Winston could be seen. “Oh spider, oh spider,” she murmured under her breath, “what do your eight eyes see, hmm?”

“You are supremely annoying,” Widowmaker replied flatly, looking down her scope and following Winston’s movements.

“Stop flirting while we’re on a mission,” Sombra purred through a wide grin, “otherwise Gabe’s gonna get all pissy. What’s happening up there? C’mon, spill the-”

She was interrupted by a loud and sharp gunshot, and frowned slightly. Her cybernetic eyes shifted, zooming so she could just see for herself.

There was the monkey, swinging from the lift’s chair as if it was a play structure or something. The big lug - Roadhog - was tussling with him over something, and another gunshot went off as the scrawny one turned and started to berate them from the looks of it.

“Somebody should tell them that gunfire and mountain slopes don’t mix,” Sombra murmured idly. “Especially since they haven’t groomed this one yet.”

“Oh no?” Widowmaker stroked at the trigger of the Widow’s Kiss, her rifle, reverently, and sent a bullet screaming through the air toward the chair. It whizzed right through one of Winston’s jetpacks, neatly hobbling him. “Do tell,” Widowmaker murmured over the echo of her own gunshot added to the fray.

“I’m just saying,” Sombra shrugged, “the resort isn’t even open yet. They cut down trees for the ski slopes, but they haven’t actually gone up there with the machines and fixed the snowpack yet, and-” she was interrupted by another of Roadhog’s gunshots “-and it could cause a few problems, you know... avalanche wise.”

Widowmaker frowned, lowering her rifle to study the hacker curiously. She had a tendency to say whatever occurred to her, true or not, but this did not seem like a joke or a needle, or some words to weasel her way into whatever she wanted. “Is there much risk of that? An avalanche?”

Sombra shrugged, still watching the scene unfold up on the slopes. Junkrat was now slapping at Roadhog’s arm with one hand, and Winston’s head with the other, as Roadhog appeared to be strangling the gorilla. “Dunno. Tough to tell, I guess - I’m not a climatologist or some kinda… snow scientist or anything. Probably as long as nobody causes any explosions we’ll be fine.”

“Sombra.” Widowmaker sighed, shaking her head. “We are here with the express  _ purpose _ of causing explosions. To demolish the mountaintop facility? You must remember this.”

“Yeah, but that’s different - we hit the button and just cheese it, get the hell out of Dodge,” Sombra mused. “No real risk they’re because we’ll already be on our way - but now? I mean as long as nobody starts to-”

A boom split the clear air as Junkrat, evidently frustrated that nobody was paying attention to him, tossed a concussive mine off of the side of the ski-lift and detonated it with a huff and arms crossed over his chest. It sent the chair swinging violently off in the opposite direction, and also sent a concussive wave rippling through the air.

...and through the mountainside. The snow rippled and shuddered, but didn’t break loose.

Yet.

“Awwww damn.” Sombra sighed. “Well, that’s not good - let’s clear out of here,  _ amiga. _ For a minute at least, just in case - we can come back in a bit if everything’s clear and finish up.”

“What about them?” Widowmaker nudged her chin toward the slope - or more specifically, to Junkrat and Roadhog.

Sombra shrugged with a noncommittal noise. “I’ll let ‘em know, but I mean… natural selection and shit, you know?” She snickered as she keyed her radio. “Hey,  _ idiotas _ , you might wanna-”

Junkrat interrupted her. “How many times do I need to tell you  _ I don’t speak Spanish!” _

“Are you fucking  _ kidding _ me Jamison you need me to translate that?” Sombra tugged at her hair with a groan. It was all the more frustrating because he’d  _ never _ said he didn’t speak Spanish. “Oh whatever - the slope looks kinda unstable, okay? So we’re gonna clear out for a minute and let it settle down and then move back in.”

 

\---

 

The walkie talkie slipped out of Junkrat’s hands and he scrambled to grab it again, falling halfway out of the ski lift in the process. He only stayed in because one of Roadhog’s giant hands grabbed at the back of his waistband.

“I can’t hear you over the sound of these two idiots bickering!” He clutched the walkie talkie close and slapped at Winston’s head as Roadhog fired his gun again. “Come on! Would you knuckleheads shut up? I am  _ trying _ to have a  _ conversation _ here and you’re not helping!”

Roadhog grunted.

_ “Yes I called you a knucklehead!” _ Junkrat snapped, dodging out of the way of one of Winston’s fists. “Now just- gack!” He failed to dodge a second punch, and got knocked out of Roadhog’s grip and out of the chair.

As he fell through the air, he giggled to himself - it was  _ fun _ to fly, he always had loved it, and it wasn’t as if it was actually dangerous. There was nice soft snow down there - and  _ besides _ , he had all those nice concussive mines to slow his fall. It was the perfect plan!

 

\---

 

Winston let out a triumphant laugh as he knocked the scrawny Australian out of the ski lift. They wanted to make it to the mountain peak, and that meant he wanted to stop them - halfway there!

His feelings of triumph were short-lived, however, as Roadhog bellowed and grabbed him with both hands, lifting him up into the air angrily. “You-” Winston had never heard him speak before; his voice was low and grating and  _ angry _ now _. _ “You  _ threw _ him off the-”

There was a boom from below, which settled Roadhog’s nerves a little. Junkrat was still alive - alive and exploding, just the way things should be. He took a deep breath, and then behind his mask, he frowned.

He couldn’t remember his breaths ever  _ rumbling _ quite like that before…

 

\---

 

Sombra rolled her eyes as Junkrat’s voice screeched over the radio and fuzzed out the line. He was holding it too close to his mouth again. “Six inches, Jamison! I keep telling you! Do you not know what six inches is?”

She snickered. At first, she’d tried to butter him up to try to get some info out of him, but she was kind of starting to doubt that he actually  _ knew _ anything now. So many other people thought he did, though… they had to have a point.

It didn’t really matter, though - he seemed to have the memory of a goldfish, so even if she yelled at him she could just purr and stroke his arm and he’d forget it all ever happened.  _ One _ of these days he was either gonna dig up that treasure himself, or crack and let it slip to somebody, and either way Sombra wanted to be right there at his elbow.

Before she could say anything else, though, before Junkrat could respond, Tracer was back. The hack on her Accelerator only lasted so long, and this time she knew Sombra would be there and she was ready - she ducked and swirled and let off little bursts with her pulse pistols.

_ “Puta madre,” _ Sombra grunted as she reached out and shoved at Widowmaker, sending them both into a roll in opposite directions.

Then there was a boom. Then, there was a rumble.

Panicking, she looked over toward the slope - up near the top, a sheet of snow was detaching, rippling and shimmering in the sun. A little dot whistled off to one side - probably Junkrat, having been flung by that latest explosion - but there was no way they could escape that easily from the rooftop.

Luckily, Sombra always had a backup plan.

“Shit shit shit,” she muttered, scrambling and yanking out her machine pistol, firing wildly in Tracer’s general direction but not really intending to shoot her. Just scare her off. “Avalanche! Get the fuck outta here,  _ pobrecita!”  _ Then she threw herself forward and tackled Widowmaker to the ground as she was readying her rifle.

Widowmaker snarled but didn’t have time to do anything else before Sombra activated her Translocator and teleported them both within the depths of the resort beneath them where she’d planted a beacon earlier. She’d reviewed all the design documents - they were here to blow up the complex at the mountain’s peak, and she’d wanted a safe place to hide from the blast. The resort proved to be perfect.

It would  _ also _ be perfect shelter for an avalanche.

“You  _ imbecile,” _ Widowmaker snapped, shoving Sombra off. “What have you done, where are we?” She patted at herself, glanced around, and then pulled Sombra close by the front of her jacket, snarling, “Where is my  _ rifle?” _

“Fuck,  _ amiga, _ calm down,” Sombra insisted, grabbing at Widowmaker’s ungloved hands. “Look, look there’s an avalanche coming, alright? I didn’t meant to knock it out of your hands, okay, it was an acc-” she cut off as Widowmaker shoved her back with a hiss and turned away abruptly, leaving Sombra to fall on her ass.

“An accident,” the hacker finished, brushing at her knees and looking up to the tall assassin but staying where she was. She knew it was a touchy subject at best. “I’m sorry.”

Widowmaker clenched her jaw and stared at the wall as the rumbling intensified. Her rifle  _ was _ her life in so many ways, it was perhaps the only thing she  _ truly _ loved. Perhaps the only thing she  _ could _ truly love. Now it was gone.

That didn’t mean she was a fool, though.

It could be retrieved, or rebuilt - she  _ had _ others, even, but they weren’t  _ that _ one. The one with which she’d slain Mondatta. The one she’d taken on their little masquerade. The one that carried a hundred tiny nicks and chips in the paint, each one lovingly painting a long tale of survival.

Even if  _ it _ had not survived, though, she had. Thanks to Sombra.

“I know.” Her words were terse and clipped and almost got swallowed up in the now drastic rumbling that was felt as much as it was heard. She spun on heel, her long hair swirling behind her as she bent down and grabbed Sombra’s hand to pull her to her feet. Her other hand flew to the back of the hacker’s head.

“I know you are,” she murmured softly, the words only audible because of the scant inches separating them as she searched Sombra’s purple eyes. She  _ was _ sorry, Widowmaker could see it there - sorry and scared and it seemed like both of those stretched deep. “Next time, give me another moment to prepare.  _ D’accord?” _

Sombra nodded, chuckling softly and tipping forward on her toes to pop a quick kiss on Widowmaker’s lips. “Deal. Because we’re just dumb enough for there to even  _ be _ a next time.”

“Mm,  _ you _ certainly are,” Widowmaker corrected with a grin, eyes flashing as she held Sombra’s head close rather than letting her leave. “Now  _ cherie, _ you have just saved my life. Surely I must repay you with more than that...most  _ chaste _ … kiss…”

As she spoke, she leaned in closer until her lips just  _ barely  _ brushed against Sombra’s, in a way that sent goosebumps rippling along the hacker’s skin. Brought a wicked grin to her lips, too.

Of course, as Sombra leaned forward, Widowmaker matched her movements exactly - not withdrawing, not recoiling, but not letting Sombra get anything more than the slightest tiny touch of lip contact. Both of them rocking on their feet, locked exactly the same distance apart, and Sombra loved it even if it made her want to punch a pillow a little bit.

“You’re such a tease,” Sombra sighed as she tried not to let the wriggling feeling in her chest come out through her voice. It came out as a groaned chuckle instead as she clenched a fist, playing the game only because she wanted to - leaving her lips so close, letting out a tiny breath through her mouth and knowing full well how much Widowmaker would feel its warmth.

She did, too. Felt it and liked it and  _ wanted _ it, and growled softly as she tightened up her grip in Sombra’s hair. Nothing else yet, though; nothing more, only the smallest hint. Sombra’s mouth opened, as did hers, soundless motions of desperation for each other as they let their minds run wild with desire and let their lips silently state their wants.

They were teasing themselves as much as each other, now, and it could only last so long - each of them refused to be the first to crumble, though. It was an old pastime of theirs, to goad the other on as much as possible; Widowmaker ran the tip of her tongue along her own lips and chuckled as it came close enough to Sombra’s lips that she could feel the warmth.

Sombra wasn’t sure how much of the noise in her ears was avalanche and how much was blood at this point. Her eyes were wide open and locked on Widowmaker’s, practically glowing golden from only a few inches away. Whether staring or glaring would be the better term was a fair question to ask.

The lights flickered and a slam sounded above them, the wave of snow smashing against the resort’s sides. Sombra had researched it ahead of time, though: this place had been designed to withstand avalanches. They’d tested it very thoroughly.

There was another thump, though, which drew her eyes flickering upward. When they dropped again she noticed that Widowmaker’s had done the same. “Did you- hear something,  _ Arañ-” _

A massive crashing noise came just before the ceiling collapsed, both Sombra and Widowmaker rolling reflexively out of the way and expecting a rush of cold snow. There was a  _ little _ bit of snow, but for the most part what they got were grunts and thumps and roars and growls as Winston and Roadhog, interlocked and grappling, collapsed to the floor.

There was a beat of incomprehensive silence and stillness as the avalanche passed them over. All of their eyes flicked between each other, a standoff for the space of a breath.

That was all the time it lasted, though. Snarling, Widowmaker leapt at Winston - the gorilla caught her torso in one hand and spun, tossing her, but Sombra caught the assassin’s hand and pulled her right back down onto her feet. Winston threw a punch which swished through the air as Sombra teleported to the far side of him, and then let out a bestial roar as Roadhog’s ringed and thick-fingered fist collided with his jaw.

Winston caught hold of Roadhog’s straps with a foot as he dropped onto his back. Strength beat bulk and Roadhog went flying, cracking the wall in next to them as Winston sprang back to his feet.

A fresh sprinkle of snow and plaster powder dusted down into his face as there was another tense moment, Roadhog pushing himself back up to his feet and growling.

The dust and snow filtered into Winston’s nose as he sucked in a deep breath, and caused him to sneeze abruptly in the silence. He looked up to where the powder had come from, and then over to the wall he’d just damaged - and the angry man approaching from that direction.

Roadhog moved first, leaping forward and swinging his fists overhand clenched together like a hammer. Winston caught them, but a sharp elbow rammed into his ribs and he spun to his side, catching Sombra with a dextrous foot. Widowmaker leapt elegantly and wrapped her arms around his throat, strangling him for a few seconds before he worked one hand free to grab her - but had to devote his other foot to Roadhog’s other fist in the process.

For a few seconds, they struggled like that - none of them able to make any real progress. Sombra and Widowmaker could punch at his leg and his arm all they wanted but it would only ever be ineffectual, and Roadhog had one fist caught by a hand and one by a foot now, and didn’t have an angle to kick.

Still, they struggled - and so did Winston, turning and snarling and even snapping his jaws a few times. Gorillas had terrifying bites. However, he couldn’t get close enough to bite them without also letting  _ them _ get close enough to hit him in the head.

After twenty seconds or so of fruitless efforts, no ground being gained or lost by anyone, they stopped fighting quite so hard. For the most part. Widowmaker stopped trying to hurt Winston and started simply trying to free herself, prying at his huge fingers, but his strength was far greater. Roadhog gave the occasional burst of effort trying to yank a fist free or shove it forward and score a hit, but seemed to know what happened when an unstoppable force met an immovable object.

Sombra, on the other hand, kept lashing out just as violently and just as ineffectively, hissing curses in Spanish the whole time.

More dust came down and Winston sneezed again, before groaning and laying his head back on the ground. This wasn’t going to accomplish anything except for maybe destroying the building, and in that case, they’d probably all die. “Okay, okay… truce. Truce?” He glanced over to Widowmaker who scowled back with slitted eyes. “You know you can’t get free otherwise.”

“Neither can you,” she hissed back, grunting as she pulled hard at his thumb, but to no avail.

“That would be the point of the truce, yes,” he pointed out dryly. “Oh, and thanks for damaging my jumpjets so I couldn’t get free of the avalanche. That was  _ fun _ , by the way.”

“Oh, the monkey has a sense of sarcasm?” Widowmaker laughed brightly. “I am glad you enjoyed your present. I have ten more of them for you. Just…” she scowled. “Just as soon as I retrieve my rifle.”

“Yeah,” Winston sighed, suddenly more tired than angry really. He’d lost control of it outside, boiled over into rage whilst fighting Roadhog, and now he was starting to feel that kind of lethargy that came from returning to normal afterward. “I lost my tesla cannon on the slopes too. Guessing Sombra’s in the same place or she would’ve shot me already.”

“And him?” Widowmaker shot a curious glance toward Roadhog.

Winston chuckled and grinned, resting his head back against the floor as Sombra shouted something in Japanese and lashed out against his calf, but did nothing at all. “Ah, yeah, I actually took care of that. Threw it off to the side myself - and now he can’t punch me, either, so…” he raised his head to look over to Roadhog. “Truce?”

Roadhog grunted, then headbutted Winston in the side to show that while he couldn’t  _ punch _ he wasn’t exactly without options, but it hurt his face more than the gorilla and he knew it. “Fine.”

“Thanks,” Winston smiled, but didn’t let go quite yet, because Sombra was yelling something about being the ‘queen of the scorpion style’ and jabbing him repeatedly with pointed fingers. It didn’t do much of anything at all.

“Sombra. Sombra.” Winston shook her to try to get her attention but she just shouted and tried to bite at one of his toes wrapped around her torso. “Ah! Sombra! Stop- would one of you please-”

“Oh, let go of me,  _ galopin, _ I will do it myself,” Widowmaker sighed.

As Winston released her, she took a second to straighten up and brush her outfit, settling it properly again, and then strode around him to where Sombra was hissing and driving her elbow into Winston’s leg.

“Know there’s a - gah - pressure point- mmng - around here - ngrrh - somewhere!” Sombra interspersed her words with grunts and jabs and completely failed to find anything approaching a pressure point.

She didn’t notice Widowmaker walking up, being far too concentrated on trying to inflict grievous harm on the gorilla. She  _ did _ notice, however, when Widowmaker caught a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, locking lips and filling her mouth with a deep kiss.

Sombra’s arms and legs immediately stopped flailing and dedicated themselves to Widowmaker instead, running hands up her side and reaching around to grab at her butt. Winston rolled his eyes and groaned and looked away, toward Roadhog. “This is uncomfortable.”

Roadhog, still held by each fist, shrugged. He had to agree. “Yeah.”

Sombra and Widowmaker were quite occupied by their impromptu makeout session for a few moments before Widowmaker withdrew. Sombra immediately laughed. “Knew you’d be the first one to cave.”

Widowmaker rolled her eyes and groaned. “You are  _ supremely _ annoying.”

“You’re flirting again,” Sombra grinned, laying the words overtop of a chuckle - then, her eyes opened wide. “Oh shit, you’re free - go!” She pointed at Winston. “Kill ‘im,  _ chica!  _ Go on, quick, before he- why aren’t you moving? _ ” _

Widowmaker crossed her arms. “We are having a truce.”

Sombra whined, “I hate truces!” She sighed as Widowmaker glared at her. Shrugging, Sombra waved a hand and shot her a grin. “Okay, fine, I’ll play nice. This is only because of the avalanche. And your hot butt.”

Rolling her eyes, Widowmaker smirked and turned away from her to face Winston. Or, perhaps, to let Sombra see her hot butt. Or both. “There,  _ galopin, _ you have your truce, now let them go.”

“Thanks,” Winston sighed, hesitating for only another second before releasing the other two. They held true to their words - or at least to their fear of angering Widowmaker - and didn’t attack immediately. Winston’s eyes flashed back to the sniper, narrowed. “Although you can stop calling me  _ monkey _ now.”

She laughed brightly. “Ah, he speaks French?  _ Merveilleux, quel galopin intelligent!” _

He growled and got his feet under himself again, reaching up to hit his communicator. “Tracer? Are you alright? Did you escape the avalanche? Athena - can you hear me? Come in!”

“Signal’s blocked,  _ chico,” _ Sombra shrugged, taking a step forward and wrapping her arms loosely around Widowmaker’s waist. “Too much snow. Just gotta wait here until they dig us out. I warned your little  _ chiquita _ though and she zipped off somewhere so she should be safe.”

“Mmm. Sure, thanks,” Winston murmured. That was good at least - somebody out there knew.

One of Widowmaker’s hands slid down along Sombra’s forearm until their fingers could interlace, as the sniper leaned back into the hacker’s embrace. Winston wondered how long the pair had been together - and wondered if it might mean anything tactically, anything that could be used in the fight against Talon.

“Hey, stop staring, perv.” Sombra glared at him. “I’m holding you personally responsible for interrupting what should’ve been a perfect hideaway for two.”

“I wasn’t-” Winston protested, wiping a hand over his face. “I wasn’t staring,” he muttered and shook his head. “If we’re gonna be stuck in here until help arrives, we’ll need to find food.”

“Kitchen’s that way,” Sombra replied, gesturing loosely with a hand and kissing at Widowmaker’s neck. Unfortunately, her gesture pointed at roughly half of the entire resort.

“Very helpful,” Winston muttered, shaking his head and loping off down the hallway. At the very least he could give the other two some space. They certainly didn’t seem concerned about him watching, and he didn’t even want to  _ start _ thinking about the implications of all that.

To his surprise, Roadhog trundled along beside him, and Winston shot over a curious glance.

The massive man shrugged, not responding immediately. A few seconds later, though, he spoke up. “Hungry.”

His words were muffled by the gasmask over his face, and Winston wondered - and not for the first time - about it. He didn’t really feel like he could ask, but it was a little bit different to be this close and in a situation that didn’t entail hostility. Suddenly Winston wasn’t focusing on Roadhog’s size, on the rings on his fingers or the spikes on his outfit - he wasn’t scared to get struck by an assortment of nuts and bolts and scrap chunks.

Instead, he was seeing the less-than-smooth rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed, and hearing the way that breath wheezed a little, a slight hiss coming from the gasmask.

For a moment, Winston didn’t really see the worldwide criminal and anarchist “Roadhog”, but rather, he thought he saw some snippets of whoever he’d been before.

The first hallway yielded nothing good. The resort was still in the preparation phases, not slated to open until the next year - construction delays had occurred. The structure was all finished, but the rooms were not.

Originally this had been slated as opening season, but it had been pushed back, and as a result the resort was in an odd state of patchwork, with sections totally complete and others entirely unfinished. Chairs were stacked in some rooms and even laid out on a few, but there were others where painter’s equipment still stood and plastic was still taped down to protect carpets or windows, wires dangling from the ceilings or panels missing from the walls.

Speaking of windows, every one they passed was blacked out by snowfall - not an iota of light made it through, so far as Winston could tell, and he was glad that the building’s power hadn’t failed.

“Why do you work with them? With him?”

Winston hadn’t really intended the question, but it had been silent for a while as they searched the rooms hoping to find a pantry or a storeroom somewhere. It could be days or even longer before rescue came, and while he wasn’t hungry  _ yet _ (at least, not really) he knew he would be soon.

He’d never really been great at tolerating silence anyway.

Roadhog, on the other hand, loved silence. It was perhaps the only peaceful thing left to him anymore, and he happily let it ensue as the gorilla’s question hung in the air. He didn’t like the gorilla. He didn’t like most people.

At the same time, he wasn’t stupid. He knew that he and Winston had only survived the fall and the avalanche because of their size, because of their strength - Junkrat would have been crushed. If he hadn’t been thrown free of the chair-lift, he would be dead right now.

It deserved an answer. Or at least a question.

“Which?”

Winston blinked over to the huge man, then raised an eyebrow. “I need to pick one? Talon, or Junkrat?”

Roadhog nodded with a chuckle, throwing a door open to reveal an exercise room with treadmills and stationary bicycles pushed up against one side, mostly still in boxes.

“Alright, fair enough.” Winston sighed as he deliberated briefly. “Talon, then.”

That was, on the one hand, the harder answer. On the other hand, it was only harder because Roadhog actually considered telling the truth to it. If asked about Junkrat he would’ve told a  _ partial _ truth, that it was about money, but that wasn’t all of it in reality. Not anymore.

Maybe it had started that way.

Still, he hadn’t been asked about that, he’d been asked about Talon. They weren’t members, exactly, but they had not-infrequent dealings with the organization. He suspected Junkrat’s reasons were somewhere between idiocy and just wanting to blow things up, with at least a little bit of being an easy mark to con getting thrown in along the side, too.

He hadn’t been asked about that, though.

After a few moments of silence and two more rooms which failed to contain anything of immediate interest, Roadhog shrugged. “World deserves them.”

Winston scoffed. “The world deserves terrorist groups?”

“Exactly.”

The gorilla didn’t have a response to that. He couldn’t argue with it internally, nor really externally, but for entirely different reasons. Internally, it was logically sound - Roadhog was doing a thing because he thought it was deserved, and Winston couldn’t really debate that logic.

Externally, the idea was so wrong he didn’t even know where to start, so he couldn’t debate it from that end either. The man might as well have said gravity didn’t exist, or that he didn’t need to breathe. It was just patently untrue - the world  _ didn’t _ deserve Talon. It deserved so much better.

Without a leg to stand on, so to speak, Winston just shrugged and hummed and let the uncomfortable silence take over again.

Behind his gas mask, Roadhog’s thick lips twitched just slightly into a smile. He liked silence.

 

\---

 

_ “Hola.” _

Winston spun around toward the door, heart leaping, and he clutched at his chest. “Sombra! You scared me.”

“Good,” she grinned, stepping into the room with a raised eyebrow. “Find anything good so far?”

Up on a large stack of crates, Winston sadly shrugged with a sigh. “No. I was hoping there might be some food or water in here, but it’s just merchandise for the gift shop.”

“Cool!” Sombra jogged over, jumping up onto the crates and climbing the stack quickly. “They got any snowglobes?”

Winston frowned a little, but a chuckle escaped as well. There was something to be said for enthusiasm, at least. “T-shirts and coffee mugs, sorry to disappoint,” he murmured as Sombra rifled through one of the crates.

“Eh, it’s fine, I’m used to men disappointing me.” She flashed him a smirk as she tugged a t-shirt that was at least three sizes too large over herself. It bore the logo of the resort above an embroidered mountain range, and hung almost down to her knees. “Whatcha think? Look good?”

“I’m not exactly a fashion expert, but I can say with confidence, no.”

Sombra cackled briefly. “Perfect!” She didn’t take off the shirt. She did, however, spin around and bring up a floating screen. “I’ve been looking through the plans - problem is, I’m offline right now and I was more concerned with architectural integrity than amenities so I don’t have backups of some of the right stuff.  _ Mea culpa.” _

She pinched the screen by its edge and slid it over toward Winston, who leaned in and readjusted his glasses to inspect it. “This is the only floor plan I’ve got and it’s hardly comprehensive - if you wanted to know where the generators were? I’ve got your back. Need a wiring diagram? Come to Sombra. But, I didn’t think I’d need to be finding the kitchens.”

“Well, I didn’t think I’d need to be finding  _ any _ of it,” Winston admitted as he pored over the schematic.  _ Hardly comprehensive _ didn’t give it justice - it was halfway between a napkin sketch and a concept drawing. Three whole rooms were labeled with “conference???”.

“There’s nine rooms for storage on there,” Sombra shrugged, picking at her fingernails. “Problem is, we don’t know which one’s for food. This one here’s closest to the kitchen on the schematic, but if you’ve looked next door, you’ve probably realized it’s a lounge and not a storeroom so this isn’t exactly an accurate roadmap.”

“Mmm, saw that lounge, yeah,” Winston nodded. “Nice fireplace, though.”

“Yeah!” Sombra laughed. “Rich people really know how to waste their money, huh? Man, I remember when my idea of luxury was a fuckin’ lollipop…”

Winston’s eyes drifted up from the screen and over to her, no longer cleaning out her nails but rather just staring, still, off into space. After a few seconds he was about to say something, but she beat him to the punch when she suddenly shrugged. “Eh, whatever. Anyway, any ideas? I’m tired of just running door-to-door.”

Shrugging, Winston looked back to the schematic. “Looks like there’s a bar in this general area, too - if they’re going to serve food there as well, it would make sense to me to have food  _ storage _ in between, equidistant. At least, physical sense. I’m not a cook or anything.”

Sombra hummed, pulling the screen back over and looking at it thoughtfully. Winston watched her for a second before quirking an eyebrow and crossing his arms. “What, no snarky comment about banana flambé? Banana loaf?  _ Monkey _ bread?”

The hacker burst out into laughter, slapping at one of her knees before grinning over to him. “Man, this is great. I’ve even got you making my jokes  _ for _ me!”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head as she chuckled, but teasing aside, he couldn’t help but note that she didn’t need to come over, to say hello - for somebody who literally hadn’t stopped slapping at him until she’d been unable to breathe, for somebody who had made  _ Roadhog _ look calm and composed, she was being plenty friendly now.

Cracking jokes, asking for help, offering help. She hadn’t hit him yet or hardly even called him any names.

“Alright,” he murmured softly, leaning over in her direction a bit. “I’ll bite. What gives?”

Her eyes flicked momentarily away from the screen toward him, and then back again. “What’re you talking about?”

“This,” he gestured between them. “Taking to this truce so quickly. Earlier you wouldn’t stop smacking at me and jabbering about being the scorpion queen or something-”

“Hey, first of all,” she interjected, swiping the screen away into nothingness and pointing an accusing finger at him, “I  _ am _ the Scorpion Queen, alright? Secondly, I mean,” she shrugged, a goofy grin overtaking her lips as she crossed her arms. “Gotta put on a good show for my girl, right?”

There wasn’t even a moment when he doubted that she was telling the truth - a laugh burst out of him at the expression on Sombra’s face, the tone in her voice. He realized he should’ve been maintaining skepticism, and he fully planned to when it was prudent, but he could hardly see the harm in believing her that far.

Along with the fact that that looked so much like Tracer’s grin when Emily was nearby, so Winston couldn’t possibly doubt her. He laughed for a few moments, raucously, and she even joined in with a chuckle or two.

“Ahh,” he sighed, shaking his head a little. “That’s- that’s pretty cute, actually. Honestly, when you’re not shooting at me, I guess you’re not so bad.”

“Yeah, ditto on that one,” Sombra muttered darkly, frowning a little. “Hey, outta curiosity, you ever been  _ hit _ with your little electric clusterfuck? It’s not fun!”

“Have you ever been shot with  _ your _ gun?” Winston chuckled dryly, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly a tickly feather either.”

“I’ve been shot with  _ a  _ gun, smartass,” Sombra waggled a finger, “now stop dodging the question.”

Winston shrugged, somewhere between uneasy and slightly grumpy about the topic, but mostly because he didn’t like thinking about the idea that he was hurting people. Even if Talon were  _ bad _ people, they were still  _ people _ , and he’d hurt them, and he’d killed them, and… he didn’t really like to think about it.

There was also a possible embarrassing revelation in the wings, which he was debating - but it didn’t take long. He’d rather admit to that than admit to the rest of it.

“Not…  _ exactly,” _ he sighed, holding up a hand before Sombra’s smug smirk could turn into words, “however! I…  _ may _ have, once or twice, while working on it, accidentally triggered the emitters. Or… maybe more like seventeen times.” He cleared his throat. “One time I singed all the fur off of my right arm. It was bald for a week.”

Sombra paused for a second before she cracked up cackling again. She stayed like that for a while, almost falling from her perch on the boxes once or twice, but Winston suspected that was mostly theatrics - while she got close, she never actually had to grab on in order to stay up, or re-balance in panic.

Eventually her laughter trailed off and she shook her head. “That’s crazy. Anyway, let’s see if we can find this kitchen or whatever. I’m dying for some nachos.”

“You think they’d have nachos?” Winston hopped down from the crates and headed for the door as Sombra, following, scoffed.

“Well, yeah! What kind of fucked-up establishment doesn’t have nachos?”

 

\---

 

They didn’t have nachos. They didn’t have any of the components for nachos at all. Or, in fact, any food. This was definitely the place, though - steel racks, gleaming in the fluorescent lights, drains in the white tile floors, two huge walk-in freezers.

All empty.

“No food?” Sombra frowned, seeming to ask the question of the room - to entreat the air itself to answer her. Her shoulders sagged as she stepped forward and stretched out her hands. “No food!”

“Would appear that way,” Winston muttered, “at least none here, but maybe somewhere els-”

“What in  _ god’s _ name are you wearing?” Widowmaker’s voice came from behind them, startling Winston into spinning around to find her staring, aghast, in Sombra’s direction.

The hacker laughed and tugged her oversized t-shirt straighter. “I found this!”

“It’s  _ hideous!” _

Sombra grinned delightedly. “I know! I love it!”

Widowmaker stared, open-mouthed, for several seconds - long, full, weighty seconds before she simply closed her mouth, turned slightly, and stepped over to Winston. Ignoring Sombra entirely.  _ “Salut. _ Perhaps I can speak with someone who has half a mind.”

“Only half of one?” Winston quirked and eyebrow and chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “Not much to tell. Seems like this is the main food storage area, and there’s nothing here.”

Her eyes flicked through the room. “Did you check the freezers?”

“Yes, I checked the freezers,” Winston muttered, rolling his eyes. “They’re huge, they didn’t exactly escape my notice.”

“Well  _ alright,” _ Widowmaker sighed, pinching at the bridge of her nose. “I inspected the west wing of the facility. You and the beast inspected the north, Sombra the east, this southern section was our final hope.”

“Wait,  _ I’m _ not the beast?” Winston asked in genuine confusion.

He didn’t get a response, not exactly, not in words - Widowmaker looked over to him with a deep frown of some sort he couldn’t precisely decipher, but she held it perfectly still for several seconds before blinking and shaking her head.

“Regardless,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him, “this was certainly designed for food storage. I suppose they did not want to risk wastage before the resort’s opening next year.”

“Makes sense,” he shrugged. “Even with the freezers and all - why pay to keep them running if you won’t be using them? Seems like they’re stocked with plenty of non-perishables: gift shop items, furniture, paraphernalia.”

“Mm,” Widowmaker nodded, “I noticed the same. Perhaps we will want to cook and eat Sombra.”

Winston’s eyes shot over for a second and he let out a single laugh. She had to be joking. “Really? Her first? She’s not exactly the biggest meal.”

“I would be too stringy, surely the beast would be  _ gamey _ , and you?” She tossed her head back for a laugh. “No, Sombra would be the best option. She has been nicely fattened up on snack foods and sitting at a computer, but exercised enough to not be flavourless.”

Sombra, who was in fact standing only about eighteen inches away and staring directly at Widowmaker - locking eyes with her during the whole exchange - waited a few seconds before she spoke up. “Um,  _ hello? _ I didn’t turn on my camo again by accident, did I?” She held out her hands. “C’mon  _ chica _ I’m  _ right here!” _

“Yes,” Widowmaker replied levelly, almost thoughtfully, “wearing a shirt so atrocious I cannot help but let my thoughts turn to erasing it, and you, from existence.”

“Oh, pbbt,” Sombra blew a raspberry, “the shirt’s great and  _ anyway _ I think you just wanna eat me generally - but also,  _ also!” _ She raised a hand, cutting off Winston’s offended remarks before they could leave his lips. “You gave me an idea. Snack foods.”

Evidently thinking that that was enough of an explanation, Sombra turned away and left the room. Winston and Widowmaker exchanged a glance, a mutually curious one, before Sombra’s voice drifted back through the open door.

“Follow me, bitches! Keep up!”

 

\---

 

Widowmaker scowled as she flung her grappling hook up the stairwell. It bit into the ceiling and she ascended quickly, passing Sombra and Winston (along with Roadhog, who they’d bumped into) on the stairs and leaning back against the railing to wait for them.

She didn’t like the monkey being here. It would have been bad enough to be trapped in here with the other two - even maybe with Sombra alone. Maybe. She was annoying, but she at least had her positive qualities.

Although, Widowmaker did need to admit, it was pleasant to speak with someone who perhaps aligned in other ways. The other two would never have relented and permitted a truce without her, she knew - and while she liked fighting, combat in which no ground could be gained was only ever a frustration. Without her weapons, she knew she could not best the monkey.

However, she was also quite confident that he couldn’t best  _ her. _

“What is this  _ idea _ you have then?” Widowmaker muttered as Sombra made it to the top of the stairs and jogged past her.

“Shh. It’s a secret.”

Rolling her eyes, Widowmaker pushed off of the railing and followed the hacker, grumbling. Winston followed her; Roadhog came several seconds later, panting heavily through his gasmask.

Sombra stopped at a door and leaned back against it with a grin and her arms crossed. Widowmaker glared at her with a  _ scowl _ and her arms crossed, and Winston just stood awkwardly off to the side and tried not to think the phrase  _ lover’s tiff _ or he thought he might start laughing.

They all waited until Roadhog trundled up, and then waited for another moment or two as he crouched, hands on his knees, half doubled over with heavingly heavy breaths.

“You good?” Sombra raised an eyebrow. Roadhog, not looking up, flashed her a thumbs-up, so she shrugged and carried on. “Alright then,” she grinned to the others sharply and hiked a thumb over her shoulder. “Behind this door? Answers to all our prayers.”

“This is the top floor,” Winston murmured, “there weren’t any storerooms up here. Just the bar, accommodations, a lounge…”

“Yes, I know, but when the witch from Hansel and Gretel over here,” Sombra gestured to Widowmaker, “was talking about eating me, she had a point. Not about eating me!” Sombra held up a hand, cutting off Widowmaker’s grin as the assassin revealed a dangerous grin.

“We will see about that,” Widowmaker purred, but Sombra didn’t let the words get to her.

Much. Maybe a little something ran down her spine, but whatever. “She had a  _ point _ about the snack foods. You said they didn’t have anything in the storeroom and shit because it would go bad, they’d have to pay to run the freezers, blah blah blah…”

“I don’t remember saying ‘blah blah blah’ but go on,” Winston chuckled.

Sombra pressed a hand to her forehead, muttering.  _ “Dios mio _ have I really gotta spell it out for you?  _ Snack foods, _ monkey, i-”

“Not a monkey,” Winston interjected.

“I don’t wanna argue taxonomy!” Sombra snapped, and then groaned. It had been hours and she usually got cranky when she was hungry. “For fuck’s sake is this what I’m gonna get for saving everyone?”

“You have saved no-one,” Widowmaker asserted, arms still crossed, “only led us to a closed door.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side with this shit,  _ chica!” _ Sombra protested. “In like  _ fifty ways! _ C’mon, teammate, friend, girlfrie-” she cleared her throat as Widowmaker flashed her a dangerous glare, “-I-I mean uh, like, hangout buddy or whatever - my  _ point _ is-”

“Pretzels.”

All eyes turned to Roadhog - Winston’s confused, Sombra’s wide, Widowmaker’s flatly annoyed.

“THANK YOU!” Sombra yelled loudly. “Finally, somebody appreciates my brilliance - yeah,  _ pretzels, chico!” _ She patted a hand against the door. “In behind here is the bar - and you know what that means? Bar  _ snacks! _ Pretzels, peanuts, all that kinda shit. Non-perishable, pre-packaged, delicious, and nutritious!”

“I personally know about a hundred doctors who would argue that last point,” Winston grumbled, “but it’s definitely better than nothing. Good job, Sombra.”

“You’re  _ welcome,” _ she bowed in his direction, then turned and fixed Widowmaker with a grin and a slowly raising eyebrow.

The sniper stared back at her, eyes narrowing degree by degree and matching Sombra’s raising eyebrow and widening grin. “I  _ hate _ peanuts.”

Sombra giggled. “I know.”

Widowmaker growled a sigh and dropped her head into her hands.  _ “Alors, _ it will be something to eat at least - very well, well done I suppose, now will you open the doors?”

“Yeah,” she snickered, “just gimme a few minutes to pick the locks and I’ll- okay, or not.” She cut off as Roadhog grabbed her by the shoulders, picked her up, and set her to the side. “What the fuck?”

“Hungry,” he grunted, and threw his shoulder into the double-doors. They were locked, they were metal, they were serious doors - but there was little that stood before his onslaught, and these doors couldn’t count themselves amongst that elite group. They bent and caved inward, one falling off of its hinges entirely. Roadhog jogged into the room and ran toward the bar.

Sombra followed as well, eyes flitting through the room - nice furnishings, a stage, beautiful view out of the windows (when they weren’t covered in snow from the avalanche, probably) - and then her eyes caught on the bar itself.

As Widowmaker tried to step past her, Sombra snatched at her hand and caught it. The sniper tried to tug away but Sombra’s grasp held firm, and she turned to look at the hacker.  _ “Quoi?” _

_ “Amiga… _ we hit the motherlode,” Sombra whispered, tugging Widowmaker close and wrapping an arm around her. She pointed toward the bar with the other. “Look!”

Widowmaker followed the gesture, laying an arm around Sombra’s shoulders idly as she did and looking to the bar. It was fully stocked, bottles lining the shelves behind it and filled absolutely to the brim. They weren’t even opened yet - she could see their plastic wrappings and safety seals from here.

Next to the bar were stacked several cases of wine. Widowmaker sighed happily, leaning in to Sombra. “Indeed,” she murmured, then looked over in annoyance. “You nearly called me your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, just a uh,” Sombra cleared her throat, “that thing where you say the wrong word, you know?”

Widowmaker hummed, sounding unimpressed, but a moment later she shrugged. “I suppose I do not care what you call me. This way I can get mad at you if you forget our anniversary.”

“Pfft,” Sombra rolled her eyes, “like that would ever happen! C’mon, I’m gonna remember the time I got shot and nearly died, it was February…” she frowned, “uh… Mar… Apr-”

“November the twelfth,” Widowmaker supplied with a smirk. “I believe you owe me a set of diamond earrings now.”

“What!” Sombra gaped, grinning at the back-and-forth. The return of the jokes, of the teasing, was really nice. “C’mon, that’s gotta be a flowers-level offence. Maybe -  _ maybe - _ like a silver necklace or something.”

Widowmaker turned to meet Sombra’s eyes, not blinking, staring deep into them as she laid her hands on the hacker’s shoulders and gripped firmly. “Do you  _ really,” _ she whispered, raising an eyebrow, “want to  _ take _ that chance?”

“Hey do you prefer dangly earrings or stud ones?” Sombra chuckled. “No reason, just asking for a friend.”

Laughing lightly, Widowmaker stepped toward the bar. One hand slipped from Sombra’s shoulder to her hand and she tugged the hacker along in her wake. “Come. And if you think I will permit you to keep wearing that ridiculous t-shirt, you are sorely mistaken.”

As they approached the bar, though, they rapidly became aware of heated, growled words being exchanged.

“Are you  _ sure?” _

“Yes.”

“You looked  _ everywhere?” _

“Yes.”

“I-” Winston sighed in exasperation, “under the  _ sink?!” _

Roadhog was silent for a few seconds. “Yes.”

“What’s up?” Sombra glanced between them.

“There’s nothing up here either,” Winston explained. “No pretzels, no peanuts, no chips, no snacks at all. No food.”

“Well, fuck it,” Sombra sighed, stepping over and grabbing a bottle of tequila. It had been the last room, everything else had been scoured. “No limes?”

“No limes.”

“Fuck,” she hissed as she twisted the cap off. “It was a good idea though, you gotta admit.”

Winston shrugged. “It was. It was worth a shot. Realistically, we won’t  _ starve _ before we get saved. Probably.” His stomach grumbled and he glanced to the others. “Actually, I have no idea what any of your metabolisms entail.  _ I _ won’t starve, at least. To death. Probably.”

Roadhog chuckled and said nothing else, and Sombra tipped the bottle of tequila back for a swig.

“Do you not normally carry snacks?” Widowmaker raised an eyebrow at Sombra, pulling six bottles of wine from a case and setting them on the counter. She produced a corkscrew from somewhere that Winston couldn’t determine - part of her kit, maybe - as she looked over to him in annoyance. “I am always finding bits of chocolate or crumbs. Everywhere.”

“I already  _ ate _ ‘em all,” Sombra complained as she pulled another few bottles down and tucked them into her arms. “Whatever. Those leather chairs look comfy, I’m gonna go sit on ‘em and drink until I don’t feel hungry anymore.”

“That’s probably the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Winston muttered.

“Hey, don’t lie about that shit,  _ mono,” _ Sombra called over her shoulder. “I’ve heard Jesse’s ideas! I know this isn’t the dumbest thing you’ve ever bumped into.”

Winston shrugged. It was probably a fair point, McCree  _ did _ have some pretty terrible ideas. 

His stomach grumbled again. It was starting to hurt, actually. Widowmaker set her bottles back into the case and carried the whole thing over to where Sombra was - Roadhog grabbed a few dozen bottles of assorted liquors and headed that way too, taking up a whole couch by himself.

For a few moments, Winston just looked at all the bottles and frowned. The effects of alcohol were well-documented and pretty predictable. It would help to numb hunger pains, and Sombra had a point - drinking  _ enough _ would even kill appetite.

Along with brain cells.

His stomach growled again.

“Ugh.” Winston grabbed as many bottles as he could at random and loped over toward the others.

Sombra sat with her legs curled under her on a large and cushy, leather, recliner-styled chair. Widowmaker was sitting right next to her - the chair had only been built for one, and there were empty ones on either side, but for whatever reason they were sharing that one. He didn’t need to think hard to guess at the reason, either.

Roadhog twisted the cap off of a bottle of bourbon and crushed it flat between his fingertips. With one hand, he tugged his gasmask gently up - just enough to reveal his mouth. Twisted, chapped lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle and he drained almost half of it before setting it down on the table in the middle of the group.

“What exactly is the point of the mask, anyway?” Winston raised an eyebrow, picking up a bottle at random - gin, according to the label. He unscrewed the cap, but didn’t drink just yet. “We’re not exactly in the habit of gassing people, you know, and I don’t think it really looks that scary.”

Roadhog laughed at something, but Winston couldn’t guess what, and the huge man didn’t seem inclined to respond right away. With a shrug, Winston took a sip of his bottle and immediately recoiled, coughing. “Oh, that’s- that’s terrible.” It tasted like insect repellant, like chemicals and aromatics, bitter and sharp and awful.

Sombra laughed from her chair, stroking at Widowmaker’s hair as the assassin swirled a glass of wine. “Ah, you’re a hoot,  _ chico. _ Whatcha got - is that…” she bit her lips together briefly and snickered. “Did you just drink  _ room-temperature _ gin? No wonder you hate it! Here, give this a try.” She handed over her tequila.

Hesitantly, he took a sip. It was practically diametrically opposed, smooth rather than sharp, and not bitter at all. Winston drank a larger sip and handed the bottle back. “Thanks.”

“No problemo,” she shrugged, glancing over the other bottles he’d brought over. “You should be fine for the rest. Vodka might be a little rough so I’d leave it for later - or chill it, then it’ll be great.”

“Thanks,” Winston repeated, shrugging with a little chuckle. “Guess it’s obvious that I don’t do this often, huh?”

Sombra laughed, nodding, and Widowmaker hummed a chuckle into her glass as she took a deep pull of her wine. She wasn’t surprised, given the other amenities, that they’d chosen some good vintages from good vineyards. Nothing exceedingly fancy - not in a  _ crate, _ certainly - but she could hardly expect that. For anything from the past decade or so, this was really quite good.

“Hogrogen.”

Winston looked over suddenly at Roadhog’s seemingly unrelated and nonsensical word. “What?”

“The mask,” the massive man grunted, tapping at his face. “Hogrogen. Gas. Treatment. For radiation sickness.”

Winston frowned heavily, twisting a different bottle open - something brightly coloured, which he hoped would mean flavourful at least. A gentle sip revealed something sour, tasting heavily of raspberries, but also quite sweet. Something he could drink at least, and he noticed that Roadhog had several similarly-labeled bottles in different colours.

“The Omnium.” Roadhog reached out for his bourbon again and drained the rest of it, speaking a word without his mask muffling them. “Australia.”

“You were  _ there?” _ Winston asked incredulously, and Roadhog chuckled as Sombra burst out laughing.

_ “There?” _ Sombra snickered, swigging at the tequila again. “That’d be a bit of an understatement!”

Roadhog nodded, chuckling still, then sighed and shook his head. “There. I  _ did _ it. ALF.” He hesitated for a moment, then sharply yanked over one of the brightly-coloured bottles. Pineapple sour. “Mako Rutledge.”

Winston knew the name - it was difficult not to, with all the ads and wanted posters - but he didn’t know the full story. He shook his head in disbelief and returned his attention to drinking.

Roadhog recognized the look. The judgement. He deserved it, and he knew it, but that didn’t mean that  _ other _ people  _ didn’t _ deserve the same. “They killed us. Destroyed our homes. We finally fight them off and rebuild, and then… in steps the government. Gives our homes away to them anyway. Same ones who killed our friends. Now we’re homeless again. Destruction deserves destruction.”

Maybe that was why it had all been destroyed anyway. Destruction deserved destruction. They’d sought to destroy the omnics, and they’d reaped what they’d sowed. As had the omnics in turn.

It only ever went one way - down. Constant descent, worse and worse; destroy, destroy back, destroy back. The way of the world, and Roadhog knew that now.

So simple. He swigged at the pineapple sour and grunted, nodding.

Winston hesitantly drank another mouthful from his bottle. Maybe it would be best to be quiet again for a few minutes.

 

\---

 

“See, that’s- but that’s the thing, it  _ is _ happening,  _ chico. _ ”

“Well, okay,” Winston shrugged. His brain felt fuzzy, all of his limbs loose - he kind of liked it, actually, it all felt a little funny and he found himself chuckling at things that he wouldn’t have normally. “And if it’s happening, we’ve got to do something about it.”

“No, you- gah,” Sombra grabbed at her hair, taking another hit from her now half-empty bottle of tequila. “There’s no  _ if _ it’s happening! That’s what I’m saying - these companies,  _ chico, _ you gotta understand, okay, it’s-”

Suddenly, she stopped talking and looked around the room, hand outstretched. You never knew when someone was listening. Their eyes were many, and widespread. “Nah,” she shook her head, “no I already said too much. Anyway, anyway point is, this shit is  _ gonna _ go  down. Big thing’s coming and we gotta be prepared.”

“Prepared!” Roadhog blurted a laugh. “Prepared! Can’t be prepared. Big thing’s  _ always _ coming, destruction gets destruction, it all goes down. Everything’s stacked against you, against me, against all of us.”

“Well,  _ yeah _ ,” Sombra insisted, turning to him loosely and leaning against the arm of the chair. Widowmaker had abandoned all pretense of her glass and now drained wine directly from the bottle, laying back along Sombra’s side. Two empty bottles sat on the floor.

“Yeah,” Sombra continued, “yeah it’s all stacked against us, but that’s why we’ve gotta  _ fight _ it,  _ chico! _ We gotta figure it out and unravel it before it goes too far!”

“Can’t.”

“But- but  _ gotta!” _ Sombra protested.

Roadhog laughed, shaking his head. “World’s already destroyed. Some parts just haven’t realized it yet - it’s all gone, it’s all done, it was long ago. Dominoes, and they’re almost done falling. You can’t save the last one and say you made a difference. It all dies. We all die. It’s all pointless.”

Sombra stared openly as Roadhog picked up a bright pink bottle of cotton-candy flavoured liquor and happily guzzled down a quarter of it, chuckling as he did. “That’s- that-  _ you _ are the scariest shit in the world right now,  _ chico, _ ” Sombra shook her head. “Like… that’s the scariest thing ever. That it’s all done, that it’s all hopeless, just give up - no, we’ve got to  _ fight _ it!”

“You sound like Lúcio,” Winston chuckled.

“All dying,” Roadhog shrugged. “Grab what you can while you can. That’s why you steal everything - deep down, you know. You can’t win that fight. Just steal all the diamonds and candy you can while you’re still alive.”

Sombra stared in shock, slowly shaking her head.

Widowmaker raised a hand. “ _ Excusez-moi, _ I am barely alive and I still want diamonds! Thank you! Although I must admit, he has somewhat of a point.”

“Yeah, yeah I’ll get you some diamonds  _ amiga,” _ Sombra murmured to her, patting her on the shoulder. Widowmaker curled up again with her bottle, evidently happy with that response - or at least, entirely dedicated to self-inebriation - as Sombra returned to gawping at Roadhog.

“You… I mean, you can’t really think that, can you?” She shook her head. “Nah,  _ chico _ , I steal shit for  _ when _ I win the fight. I steal it to  _ help _ with the fight - to help me, to help others, I pass that shit along so that the people at the bottom don’t get knocked off so quickly. So they’ve got half a chance of joining in - I mean, do you  _ know _ the kinda shit that Lumerico was getting up to?”

“Don’t care,” Roadhog shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. All dead anyway, all already dead. Walking corpses. I kill ‘em, you kill ‘em, we wait for the waves to wash over and swallow ‘em up, doesn’t matter. All dead.”

Winston nodded slowly. “You know,” his words came out a little slurred, and that sounded funny so he chuckled at it. “With that nihilism in mind, a lot of things about you make more sense. Also, I’m definitely on your side with this one, Sombra. Also, also-” he waved loosely over to Sombra, “also,  _ I _ would like to hear what kind of shit Lumerico was doing.”

“Yeah, I put it all online,  _ chico, _ and nobody did shit about it, alright?” Sombra huffed, crossing her arms. “I revealed that prick and there was a big fuckin’ investigation and of course it did shit all because the system’s stacked his way, so he’s still fuckin’ president, so if you wanna know what he was up to just read that. Not doing the same work twice.”

“Pointless,” Roadhog laughed, nodding and pointing at her in delight. “There, there, that’s it! That scowl. Embrace that. It’s the truth.”

She scowled even deeper for a few seconds, then abruptly stuck her tongue out at the massive man. “Yeah, well, I got a hot French girlfriend so fuck you, alright? My life’s great!”

“Oh, that’s me!” Widowmaker pulled the bottle away from her lips and raised a hand again, laughing brightly.  _ “Salut, _ it is me, I am the hot French girlfriend!”

“Damn straight you are,  _ amiga, _ ” Sombra grinned, squeezing her tight.

“Awww,” Winston grinned, chuckling as the warm feeling in his gut from the alcohol was supplemented by one he was more used to feeling around Tracer and Emily. “You know, for a pair of crazy thieves and killers, you two are actually pretty cute together.”

“Thanks,  _ chico!” _ Sombra grinned brightly, nuzzling at Widowmaker’s head as the assassin sighed and reached up, stroking fingers through Sombra’s long hair with her eyes closed and a smile on her face. “We really  _ are _ cute, aren’t we?”

“Pointless,” Roadhog grunted from his couch.

“Oh please,” Sombra shot him a dirty look, “as if I haven’t seen you and Junkrat sneaking off on the security cameras.”

There was a long moment of silence. Roadhog sat perfectly still on the couch. Then Widowmaker started to giggle, softly at first but growing until she was outright laughing.

“Ahhhhh,” the assassin flipped over onto her stomach, looking over to Roadhog with narrow eyes and a wide grin, “she got you! This is what she does, you know - finds the tiniest crack in your armour and she slits a  _ fingernail _ through,” she grabbed at one of Sombra’s hands and held out one of her bright purple claws, “and then  _ boop! _ She is in. She is quite adept at this.” Widowmaker turned to frown thoughtfully at Sombra. “Annoyingly so, in fact.”

“Damn straight I am,  _ amiga,” _ Sombra chuckled with a grin, glancing down to her for a second before returning her eyes to Roadhog. “So come on then, if it’s all so pointless, how come you and Junkie are always cuddling and shit when everyone’s got their backs turned?”

“That’s different,” Roadhog grunted. “Anyway. S’fine. Do whatever you wanna do. Just don’t fool yourself that it’ll make a difference in the end.”

Sombra chuckled and swigged from her tequila bottle again, nodding slightly, content that she’d won - or at least drawn - the argument.

“Actually,” Winston murmured, “this makes a lot of sense, too. Hey, hey question,” he shifted toward Sombra a little and stumbled slightly, throwing out a hand to catch himself from falling. “Is uh, is there  _ anybody _ in Talon who isn’t involved with each other?”

Sombra opened her mouth to respond, then tipped her head to the side as her eyes shifted distant. Slowly, she shut her mouth again and hummed. “Hmm. Nope. Guess not.” She grinned. “Not like that’s any different from your side, though - hell, you know what I’ve walked in on with my camo? Damn,  _ chico,  _ the shit I could blackmail you all with!”

“Yeah, if you’re talking about Ana or Reinhardt you can’t blackmail  _ either _ of them,” Winston rolled his eyes, “they’re embarrassingly proud and unrestrained about that stuff. If it’s Tracer or D.Va they’ve already got enough stuff that’s been edited to be faked that it wouldn’t make a difference. Jesse would probably just make you take the pictures again with better lighting that would show off his jawline.”

Sombra snickered, nodding along with everything he said, but then her grin sharpened. “Yeah, sure, all them, but what about  _ Mei, _ huh?”

Winston’s eyes widened. “Mei? What!” He frowned a little, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Mei and  _ who?” _

Sombra only chuckled, tipping her tequila back with a shrug. “Mmm, wouldn’t you like to know?”

It seemed funny and Winston laughed, taking another drink. He was definitely seeing the upsides of alcohol.

 

\---

 

“No, but- well, yeah, I guess, but that’s so  _ cool, chico!” _ Sombra grinned openly, dropping the empty bottle off to the side. It clinked against one of Widowmaker’s wine bottles. There were five of them now.

“S’not,” Winston frowned a little, his words running together and slipping thickly over his numbed tongue. “It isn’t  _ cool _ , it’s really difficult. I mean, I’m a  _ gorilla. _ Am I even a person? They didn’t exactly have me in mind when they drew up the laws, so- so can I own a house? A pet? Do I even want one?” He sniffled a little. “Do- do I really think cats are cute, or do I just  _ think _ they’re cute because I think I can’t have one?”

“Firstly, yes, you think cats are cute-” Sombra started, but Winston cut her off.

“I know I do,” he nodded solemnly, sighing. “I know, I know they’re cute, but all the cats in the world won’t change the fact that when people look at me they don’t see a man, they see a monkey.”

“Not a monkey, a gorilla,” Sombra corrected with a tip of her head, “and besides, none of that shit matters. Like… come on, man, you’re a fuckin’ scientist, aren’t you? What’s- okay tell me, what would be your life’s biggest accomplishment? The biggest, bestest thing you can think of, hmm?”

Winston’s eyes teared up a little. “Getting a kitten,” he whispered.

“No,” Sombra corrected, holding out a hand. “N- okay, I mean, yeah, that’d be great, because it would have like tiny paws and this little bobbly head and holy fuck they’re so soft,” Winston nodded as she spoke, more tears joining the few in his eyes, “but no, you’re- you’re not thinking _big picture,_ _amigo._ ”

She grinned back to him with determination in her eyes. “You’re a  _ scientist, _ not just a gorilla - you think that would matter if you won a Nobel Prize? Or like… your theories, your papers, your books; you think people will care in two hundred years when they’re reading your book  _ Twisting Time: a Thesis on Chronotemporal Anomalies and their Resolutions _ ? You really think people pick that book up and the first thing they do is go-”

Sombra held a hand out in front of her, eyes closed and frowning, miming waving her hand over something invisible. “Oh, a-” she muttered, frowning deeper, “oh a monkey wrote this. I can  _ feel _ it.”

She opened her eyes with a laugh, shaking her head. “Of  _ course _ they don’t,  _ amigo! _ They pick it up and they go ‘hooooooly fuck I’m not reading that it’s too smart for me’ and then they go to the YA section and pick up one of the shitty dystopias that he’d probably love.” She hiked a thumb over to Roadhog.

“Life’s a shitty dystopia,” the huge man snickered, swigging at another bottle. At least it was funny, though. Everything was awful and that was funny.

“See? Exactly,” Sombra nodded. “So yeah, sure, maybe people see it in person - but does that really matter to you? Deep down in your scientist heart?”

Winston grinned, shaking his head softly. “No, no I guess it doesn’t! Thanks, Sombra! And-” he held out a hand, chuckling, “don’t worry that you couldn’t read my book, it’s a pretty complex-”

“Oh no, I read it,” she nodded, laying back against Widowmaker behind her. The assassin had started massaging at her shoulders and Sombra groaned, head lolling backward. “Yyyyeah, oh yeah I read it, it was good. Took me almost all night.”

Winston frowned. “Uh… it was two hundred forty thousand words.”

“Yeah, that’s why it took me a minute,” she shrugged, “it was cool though. It’s funny, ‘cause you didn’t include any of the equations in there ‘cause you didn’t want-”

“Didn’t want them being uncontrolled information,” Winston sighed sadly. “Yeah, not actually  _ my _ decision, strictly speaking. Overwatch non-disclosure rules; I developed the theory and formulae under them so they retained confidentiality rights, particularly given that the resulting technology was being used to keep one of their operatives alive. Counted as an escalated security risk.”

As much as he was glad for Tracer’s well-being being protected, he doubted that was the driving force behind the decision. It could have been a widely helpful technology, but no other developments had been possible without Overwatch’s explicit say-so, and with them officially out of the picture there wasn’t much to be done about it.

Now, though - maybe now he could give some of it a second look. He obviously didn’t care about breaking the rules anymore.

Sombra snickered, grinning widely and sighing as Widowmaker kept massaging at her sore muscles. “Ahh, yeah, but they were a buncha idiots. I bet they went through that thing with a fine-toothed comb and pulled out out every detail they thought could actually be useful to anybody.”

“Yeah,” Winston grunted unhappily. “They did.”

Sombra laughed. “Well, their comb fuckin’ sucked  _ amigo. _ How d’ya think I made my Translocator, eh?” She raised her head enough to open her eyes and meet Winston’s gaze.

He stared back in slight shock. “Wait, you’re- you’re telling me that you read a two hundred thousand word security-edited book in one night and actually  _ developed _ a technology from the information in it?”

“Yup!” She dropped her head back into Widowmaker’s hands as the assassin moved her massage on to Sombra’s neck, her jaw, eventually extending up into her scalp. “Oh I love you so much,  _ amiga,”  _ Sombra groaned. “I mean not like that, but y’know, maybe like that, whatever.”

Winston cleared his throat. “That- you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nah,” Sombra snickered. “Well, kinda. I had to pull some info from other places, too - some of your other papers and dissertations and things, a few other documents, y’know. Grab what I can where I can.”

“Wow,” Winston murmured, draining the last of his bottle and opening another one, another brightly coloured one. “I had no idea you were a fan! I… kinda had no idea that I  _ had _ fans, actually, heh,” he chuckled and took a swig from the bottle.

Sombra pointed at herself with both thumbs. “Bona fide number one fan right here,  _ amigo. _ That latest one -  _ Sentience: An Analysis of Predictive Circuits as Compared to the-” _

_ “-Cognitive Positronics of Omnic Intelligences and the Human Brain,” _ Winston finished the title alongside her, with a grin on his lips. “Wow! Honestly, the fact that you even remembered the  _ title _ is pretty impressive.”

“Remembered it all,  _ chico,” _ Sombra sighed as Widowmaker started massaging her arm, and flipped over to face the assassin and curl up in her lap. “Read it at least a dozen times - interesting shit, definitely, and probably pretty damn important, too.”

“Trying to disassemble some of the arguments people use to refuse omnic rights,” Winston grumbled, nodding. Then he realized something and started frowning. “Hold on a second. I haven’t published that paper yet.”

Sombra cackled. “I know! I pulled a copy from your drive - I just couldn’t resist, sorry. You want me to pay you back? I’ll send you some nudes or something. Somebody’s nudes, at least.”

“Uh, thanks, I’m good,” Winston shook his head. “And uh… thanks. It’s good to know there are people who don’t think of me as a gorilla first.”

He knew Tracer didn’t, or Emily either - they probably thought of him as being a friend first and foremost. The others, he wasn’t so certain, but he knew they respected him. He knew a lot of people did, in fact: peers and others out in a variety of fields, people he’d maybe never met personally but they knew who he was.

Still, sometimes the looks on people’s faces when he met them in person weren’t exactly inspiring. Most of the time it didn’t seem like much of an issue, but he  _ had _ had a fair bit to drink.

Plus, he still didn’t know if he could own a house or a cat.

“Pbbt,” Sombra blew a raspberry, “please. I  _ wish _ we had somebody as cool as a gorilla! What’ve we got, two exploding idiots, a fisty idiot, an idiot in a cloak, a hot chick and me? C’mon.” Roadhog grunted from off at the side and Sombra rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah right, go ahead and disagree if you want.”

He didn’t say anything, though, just took another drink.

“Mmm, she likes animals,, yes.” Widowmaker hummed thoughtfully, nodding and glancing to Winston. “Perhaps that is part of it - you know, some of the pictures on her compute-”

_ “Chica shut up!” _ Sombra hissed.

“She is  _ obsessed _ with this film from decades ago,” Widowmaker continued as if she hadn’t heard, chuckling lightly and grinning and batting Sombra’s hands away as the hacker tried to clamp one over her mouth.  _ “The Shape of Water _ or something like that - have you seen it?” She raised an eyebrow to Winston who shook his head. “It is about a deaf woman who wants to fuck a fish.”

Sombra whimpered pleadingly and continued to try in vain to silence Widowmaker.

_ “Alors,” _ Widowmaker shrugged, looking down to Sombra’s head in her lap and nodding solemnly, “it is a very fuckable fish.”

_ “Amiga,” _ Sombra whispered, “I am begging you  _ so hard _ right now to shut the fuck up  _ please _ I cannot  _ believe  _ you just said-”

“What?” Widowmaker frowned. “You only told me never to tell Gabriel! You said I must never mention any of that, particularly to Gabriel, and you said I must never let anyone know that you are a Fur-”

“I AM A FUCKING GENIUS IS WHAT SHE IS SAYING!” Sombra shouted over Widowmaker’s words. “I AM A GENIUS AND NOT WEIRD AT ALL AND I DON’T WANNA FUCK A FISH.”

Widowmaker grinned down to her, the expression taking on a sudden sharpness as the gentle fuzz of inebriation seemed to lift from her countenance. It was partly an act - she was not yet as drunk as she was pretending to be, but  _ was _ getting further with every mouthful of wine. Or every bottle.

Still, she retained enough of herself to entertain her lust for revenge. “Mmm, what do you think,  _ cherie?” _ Widowmaker purred softly, so much so that the other two couldn’t hope to overhear her words. “Sufficient payback for that shirt yet? I think not.”

The assassin flashed Winston a silly grin. “She bought me cat ears!”

“RIGHT!” Sombra shoved herself off of Widowmaker’s lap and fell unceremoniously to the ground while the assassin laughed. “I’M GOING OVER HERE NOW WHERE SOMEBODY WILL RESPECT ME!”

She blushed furiously as she stomped over and sat on the couch next to Roadhog.

“I won’t respect you,” he clarified.

Sombra groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “Can I just starve to death already please? That would be great, thanks.”

 

\---

 

“Grnnkk!” Sombra choked out a half-syllable as gigantic gorilla arms wrapped tighter around her, compressing her ribs and forcing the breath from her lungs. She opened her mouth and tried to suck in fresh air but there was no space for it - one hand flailed free, desperately reaching for Widowmaker.

Winston didn’t notice, he just kept sobbing. “I ca- I can’t- I can’t believe they- they killed them all! The scientists - friends! Who raised us! I-” he collapsed into wordless sobs again, knocking Sombra to the ground this time, not releasing her but loosening his grip a little.

At least she could breath now. She gasped heavily, desperately, and then coughed a little. “That’s-” her voice was strained, “that fuckin’ sucks  _ amigo _ but I gotta breathe.” She tried to twist her head around, looking over her shoulder to try to get some aid. _ ”Ch-chica?  _ A little hand here?”

“I am busy,” Widowmaker replied simply, flipping another page of her magazine as she sat on the floor. Behind her, Roadhog was sitting on the couch. He had her long ponytail pulled up into his lap and was braiding it in several rows, tightly, beautifully - intricately in a way that didn’t seem to align with his thick fingers.

_ “Busy?” _ Sombra coughed, still wrapped in a very constricting gorilla hug. “Look, the cat ears were a joke, I swear!”

Widowmaker smiled just slightly over the top of her magazine, but didn’t look up or respond.

“My brothers!” Winston wailed, wiping at his tear-streaked face. Sombra took advantage of the opportunity to scramble away, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just went on sobbing. “They- I can’t believe it but they  _ did _ , and- and I can’t hate them because they’re my brothers! I- I- I-” he pulled himself upright a little, giant shoulders shaking with his sobs. “But I can’t love them because of what they did! But I don’t- I don’t know what to do! What to feel about it!”

“Join the club,” Widowmaker murmured dryly behind her magazine. Roadhog laughed throatily and nodded as he kept braiding at her hair.

“Ahh, don’t listen to those jaded pricks,” Sombra waved a hand loosely in their direction and shuffled forward until she could lay a hand on Winston’s shoulder. At the moment, she needed the physical support to stay upright as much as he needed the emotional support of the gesture - but she didn’t need to like  _ say _ that or anything.

“That really sucks,” she nodded softly, leaning on him as he sat and sniffled and whimpered miserably. As it turned out, gorillas made a lot of snot when they cried, and her t-shirt was a total mess now. She needed a new one.

Wobbling fiercely, Sombra started trying to tug off her t-shirt. “It’s- ah, it’s just like a thing though. Like a human thing. One of those shitty things we all gotta deal with, y’know?” She tried to pull the underside of one of the sleeves up over her head, but it didn’t work for obvious reasons.

“It’s like part of the human condition, loss and guilt and not knowing how to deal with shit and stuff. We all do different shit to get over it,” she shrugged, trying to pull the shirt up from the bottom instead. It was a perfect plan - until she realized that that would put the snot on the  _ inside _ near her  _ face _ and she dropped the hem and went back to the drawing board before deciding on a different plan entirely.

“Me? I take whatever I want to be a little happier, I crack a lot of jokes, and I hook up with all the hotties I can. Looking great and being generally excellent doesn’t hurt either,” she snickered, “but I mean with all of that, I don’t have to worry about all the other shit, you know? Like my childhood and shit.”

She frowned as she looked down into the box. These were t-shirts alright, but something was dripping on one of them. She reached out and poked at the wet spot, and then there was another one - they were coming from her cheeks. As she realized the source, she chuckled and picked up the shirt, and pulled it on anyway.

Sure, she was wearing two now, but at least she wouldn’t risk getting all snotty. Sombra turned and looked back into the box. “What’re you, like a double XL?”

“More like octuple,” Winston grumbled, pouting heavily (which was especially impressive with gorilla lips). “It’s  _ impossible _ to find clothes that fit.”

“Tell me about it,” Roadhog grunted, laying aside a braided length of hair and starting in on another one.

Sombra threw the largest t-shirt in the box over toward Winston. It landed about five feet short and ten feet off to the side, which was impressive given that she was only about seven or eight feet away to start with.

“But yeah, like… everybody’s got shitty stuff, and everyone does different things.” Her eyes widened a little and she pointed a finger. “Ohhhh, that’s probably what all your smart shit is! It’s you dealing with it!” She cackled a little and slapped him on the shoulder, sitting down heavily and reaching out for a bottle.

“Yeah,” she sighed, speaking more to herself than anyone else really. “Everybody’s got their things. Like she- over there, the blue one,” Sombra pointed at Widowmaker, smacking Winston with the bottle in her other hand to make sure he was looking, “she does all this like ‘I am zo cold on my zkin and in my ‘eart, I ‘ave no emotion, I ‘ate Zombra and want to kill ‘er’ thing,” Sombra’s voice twisted into what sounded like it was probably supposed to be an impersonation of Widowmaker, but it was a very poor one.

“How  _ dare _ you imitate me so?” Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed and she threw her magazine off to the side. “I  _ never _ say zkin! And I do have emotions. Like desire. Desire to kill you.”

“Yeah, to suffocate me between your legs maybe,” Sombra snickered.

Widowmaker shrugged as she let herself lean back against Roadhog’s legs. “That is one of many ways I have thought of killing you, yes. I also often think about strangling you while we kiss.”

Sombra snickered, snorted, laughed, then stopped abruptly. “Wait like, you  _ think about  _ doing it when we kiss, or you think about  _ doing it when we kiss?” _

Widowmaker opened her mouth to respond, then closed it and frowned. “That is the same thing.”

“No it’s not!” Sombra protested.

“I think it is,” Winston shrugged, picking up a bottle of something with one foot and unscrewing the cap with the other. “Sounds the same to me.”

“Different,” Roadhog grunted.

“Well, both then,” Widowmaker announced in a huff. “While we are kissing, I think about strangling you while we kiss.” She paused for a moment’s consideration, then nodded.  “Yes.”

“W- what the fuck am I supposed to do with that,  _ amiga?” _ Sombra set down her bottle and crawled over in that direction. “Like- like what does that  _ mean?” _

Widowmaker looked back to her emptily, frowning slightly, blinking. “Hmm.” Her frown deepened. “I do not know. But,” she tipped her head heavily to the side, “I did murder my husband, so there is that to take into consideration. Mako darling, you are pulling a little tight.”

“Sorry,” Roadhog grunted sheepishly.

“It is alright,” the assassin waved a hand airily, “you are a dear nonetheless. Now Sombra,  _ cherie, _ you really must get over this obsession with me obsessing over killing you.” She offered up what looked like a sadly supportive smile - the sort of thing family members employed at interventions, sadness tinged with concern. “I do not think it is so healthy.”

_ “I’m _ not healthy? You’re the one thinking about killing me!” Sombra protested, collapsing onto her back and looking over to Winston. “You- hey, you get how fucked up this is, right?”

Winston shrugged. “I’m basically in love with a computer screen, so I’ve got no idea.”

Widowmaker let her head fall back into Roadhog’s lap with a loud groan. “Ugh, why must you keep bringing this up? Why are you so surprised, anyway - you would not  _ shut up _ about how arousing it was at the start! How- how is it different, now…”

As she spoke, she moved, pushing herself away from Roadhog - he followed, gently holding her hair to maintain the braids, leaning forward off of the couch as she clumsily walked on her knees toward Sombra.

“How is it so different now,” she murmured, leaning down overtop of Sombra and meeting her eyes - those bright purple eyes, so full of life and technology, just like she was. Purple as well, they were also both full of purple. “To know that when I am kissing these lips…”

A blue fingertip trailed along purple-painted lips, just softly, and Sombra couldn’t help but sigh at the slight chill and pressure. The finger trailed back along her jaw and her eyelids slid shut.

“When I have this mouth pressed to mine,” Widowmaker murmured softly, leaning down until her lips brushed Sombra’s with every movement of every syllable as her hand stroked back along Sombra’s jaw and started to trace a fingernail down her jugular.

“That I am thinking,” her fingers spread across Sombra’s throat, just gently, “about grabbing on tight,” her tongue darted out, the tip just flicking between Sombra’s lips, “and squeezing until I feel your pulse stop, hmm? About feeling your frantic movements as I hold every ounce of your life in my hands and slowly end it, hmm?”

She dropped her head half an inch and demonstrated, swirling her tongue through Sombra’s hot mouth and feeling the hacker’s moan in the palm of her hand as she squeezed just a little bit, just for a moment, at her neck.

Widowmaker straightened up and raised an eyebrow, her hand retreating to the floor. “Hmm? Is that not good?”

Sombra trembled a little as a thrill ran down her spine at the way those golden eyes pierced hers. “Okay, it’s not fair how hot that is.”

The assassin grinned widely, pecking a quick kiss on the tip of Sombra’s nose. “Imagine me saying it in the cat ears.”

“Okay everybody else fuckin’ leave,” Sombra grabbed at Widowmaker’s head and pulled it down toward her.

It didn’t move, though.

She tried again, frowning, one hand on the sniper’s jaw and the other on her neck, but nothing.

_ “Salut?” _ Widowmaker raised an eyebrow. “Would you stop yanking at my head, please? Or I will kill you, and not in a fun way.”

“I’m still working,” Roadhog grunted, continuing to braid her hair and refusing to slack his grip. “Mess it up and I’ll kill you.”

Sombra looked outraged for a second, then it shifted quickly to thoughtful. “In a fun way, or not?”

“Not fun.”

“Ah, fine,” Sombra grumbled, pushing herself over toward a couch as Widowmaker leaned back and toward Roadhog again, but fixed her with a frown. “What? C’mon,  _ chica, _ like I haven’t seen how you look at that doctor's butt.”

She flashed a grin over to Winston. “All the time, every time she sees her, just like… non-stop.”

“You obsess over that movie star, the Korean,” Widowmaker retorted with a huff rather than addressing that point, crossing her arms. What she did or didn’t see through her scope hardly mattered.

“She’s a  _ really good actress, _ okay?” Sombra whined, “and like, a really good gamer, too, and just kinda an inspiration generally, so like-” she cut off and shook her head, “okay, whatever, alright? We’re not exclusive or anything! If I wanna fuck Roadhog, I’ll fuck Roadhog!”

“No you won’t,” Roadhog grunted.

Winston burst out laughing, slapping at the ground.

Sombra looked at him and seethed silently, snatching up a bottle at random and taking a swig, then choking as the warm gin splashed down her throat and she had to spend a minute coughing.

“Mmm,” Widowmaker hummed a sigh, sitting upright again and laying her head down against one of Roadhog’s knees, tipping back her twelfth bottle of wine. “I never thought I would say this, Mako darling, but you may be the least annoying person here.”

“Nobody like talkers,” he grumbled, a slight blush hidden behind his mask as he kept braiding. 

She laughed lightly. “Ahh, you are so right - but people never think it applies to them, do they? Hmm, I am always saying that,” she chuckled, “yes, always saying that indeed. Quite clever, hmm…”

Roadhog chuckled a little to himself. She was right. He was the  _ only _ person who took that advice to heart.

Herself included.

Winston managed to control his laughter and grinned over to a scowling Sombra. “Oh, that- that had to hurt! Turned down by Roadhog!”

“Oh shut up, your girlfriend’s a  _ computer _ ,” Sombra sneered back at him.

“Yeah!” He shot back with a laugh, “and she  _ wants  _ to date  _ me!” _

“Oh,  _ whatever,”  _ Sombra shook her head with a sigh. “I dunno why I thought it’d be a good idea to get drunk with you idiots anyway.”

 

\---

 

Widowmaker glanced over in the dim light. They were lucky that the lights could be dimmed - it let the others sleep.

Those that slept, at least.

She didn’t.

A noise drew her eye and she looked over just in time to see Sombra taking a seat next to her. “Hey,  _ amiga,” _ the hacker murmured, leaning over a bit to let their shoulders rest together.

Widowmaker hummed, but said nothing. The snow piled against the windows seemed darker now - it could have been night. Sombra had the only working clock and refused to share. The others had complained of tiredness, though, so the lights had been dimmed.

“I don’t really wanna fuck Roadhog.”

Widowmaker laughed abruptly, shaking her head. “Oh  _ cherie, _ I know! And even if you did, I would not care. If it makes you happy, why would I want to stop it?”

Sombra’s eyes snapped over that way quickly enough to make her head spin - aided by the booze. She’d tried sobering up for a while, but that just brought the hunger back, and staying drunk was easier anyway. They had plenty, might as well drink it.

She stared at Widowmaker for a few minutes, the sniper just sitting there and smiling softly, looking off and thinking with no outward indication of what was going through her mind. Sombra didn’t know what to say about that, really - it was almost shockingly sweet, the idea that anything that brought her happiness couldn’t possibly upset Widowmaker.

She’d kind of lost track of how long they’d been together. She knew the date, of course, and she could work it out but she didn’t keep it in her mind all the time. It had evolved, slowly, but thankfully still kept its core values: a mutual sarcasm and desire to improve their own lives.

Maybe each other’s lives.

A tiny smile tugged up the corner of Widowmaker’s lips, and Sombra opened her mouth to say something about how sweet a thing that had been to say.

“Are you thinking about killing me again?”

Sombra blinked as she heard the words.  _ That _ hadn’t been what she’d meant to say. Not at all. It was hardly the first time, though - she was always saying the wrong thing around Widowmaker.

Widowmaker’s narrowed eyes flashed over to meet hers, a scowl overtaking the slight smile on those blue lips before she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Does it really bother you so much?”

“N- uh.” Sombra frowned a little. Her gut instinct was to just say no because it sounded like the right answer, the easy answer, the answer that Widow would want to hear. Sombra usually wanted to give that answer, to whoever she was talking to - just say what they wanted, and keep doing her own thing regardless. It tended to keep the heat off.

This felt different, though.

“Maybe,” she sighed, holding a hand to her forehead. “I dunno. Most of the time it’s hot when you actually  _ talk _ about it but like… how often does it happen?”

Widowmaker chuckled. “Do you truly wish to know the answer?”

Sombra hesitated for a second. “Yeah,” she lied, “of course I do.” She was pretty sure she actually didn’t.

“Constantly,” Widowmaker confessed with a shrug, looking away again. “Or very nearly. Most things I see - blades, sticks, construction equipment, outfits - I quickly envision killing you with it. Or in it. Or next to it.”

“Oh.” Sombra nodded, clearing her throat. “Okay then.”

Nothing more was said and she was pretty damn sure she didn’t want to ask any more questions, so she just looked forward instead. It was silent for a long time.

“I won’t, you know.”

Sombra looked over, but Widowmaker hadn’t moved - or hadn’t seemed to. Again she opened her mouth but the words died on her tongue, the easy response,  _ yeah. _ “I…” Sombra cleared her throat. “Actually I dunno if I knew that. Not like…  _ really _ . Thanks though. Same.”

Widowmaker nodded, sighing a little and shrugging. It was difficult enough to parse everything normally and the wine only made it a little more difficult - but at the same time it made it harder  _ not _ to say anything. Words wanted to slip out. “I  _ do _ think that it is a good sign. I do not think of anybody else nearly as much as you.”

Sombra snickered, nudging her with her elbow. “Yeah, I know, you got it bad. Hey, you wanna watch a movie or something?”

The assassin turned and fixed her with a frown, raising an eyebrow. “Do you not wish to sleep?”

“Ehh,” Sombra shrugged uneasily, “kinda hard without uh… y’know. Something to cuddle.”

Widowmaker dipped her chin with a smile. It had taken a long time for her to earn the privilege of finding out about Sombra’s bear, as it had taken the hacker a long time to be able to touch the Kiss without problems ensuing. “Of course,” she murmured. “Let us watch something, then.”

They shifted wordlessly to reposition, Sombra setting her back to the side of a couch and Widowmaker leaning herself against the hacker’s chest. Sombra’s fingers played idly with Widowmaker’s braids as she tossed a little pixel forward where it spread into a small, glowing, floating screen.

They chuckled softly as the old cartoon played out - Sombra had several on internal storage that she could call up even with no net connection, and this was one they’d both seen before. Widowmaker a few times, Sombra hundreds - the latina liked telenovelas but Widowmaker hadn’t been able to see the appeal. These cartoons, though, she could appreciate.

A few played out before one episode ended and another didn’t take its place. Widowmaker glanced up, unable to see Sombra’s face, but hearing her soft snores. One of the hacker’s hands was still entwined in her hair, the other cupped over one of her breasts.

It was a better place to spend the night anyway, than sitting alone and looking at a wall. Widowmaker smiled slightly in the darkness as she settled in for the night. The others would wake in a while.

She needed more wine, though. As soon as Sombra stirred, she could go and fetch it and return. It wouldn’t be worth the risk of waking her.

 

\---

 

Winston woke up both slowly, and painfully - the pain started in his head and rapidly dropped to his gut. He groaned, curling up a little. “Athena,” he muttered, “call the doctor. Something’s up.”

“Yeah, sorry  _ amigo,” _ Sombra snickered, “but that ain’t happening. Unless you mean doctor tequila.”

He groaned again, louder, as memories started to filter through the muddled mess that was his mind. The resort, Talon, the avalanche, the truce - searching for food and finding none, growing hungrier and hungrier throughout the day as they scoured the whole place. Exhausting all of their options and deciding to drink in a combination of hopelessness and an attempt to forestall hunger or pain.

It  _ clearly _ hadn’t worked. He clutched at his gut with one hand and his head with the other. “I feel terrible.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sombra’s voice filtered into his ears, “that’ll be a  _ hangover. _ Luckily for you, there’s an easy cure.”

“Ugh. I hate it.” He forced his eyes open a slit - the lights were on again, brighter, and he didn’t like  _ that _ at all and let them slam shut again. His stomach wrenched and twisted, as hungry as he’d ever been, and he couldn’t decide if that was worse than the spike in his skull. “What cure are you talking about?”

Sombra chuckled and leaned over, grabbing a bottle and pressing it into his hand. “Bottoms up, big boy!” She chuckled more as the gorilla’s massive head shook ponderously back and forth, recognizing the slow movements of someone whose brain had been loosened up pretty well.

“No,” he groaned, shoving the bottle away without looking at it, “I’m never drinking again. Ever.”

Grinning, she raised an eyebrow and a bottle. Her own edge had worn off substantially overnight and she’d woken up only a little fuzzy, and that wouldn’t do. What was the point of being trapped in a room with a practically unlimited amount of booze if she was  _ sober? _

“Suit yourself,” she murmured, taking another swig of rum. “Gonna promise you though, hair of the dog’s the only way outta this one. If you wanted to  _ not _ drink you kinda had to make that decision up front before you started.”

Winston rolled over to curl up face-down, burying his head in his arms. “A warning  _ beforehand _ would’ve been nice,” he grumbled.

Sombra cackled briefly. “Fine,  _ mea culpa, _ but trust me this is better than the alternative.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Winston muttered, trying to get back to sleep where neither his head nor his gut hurt - now that he was awake, though, the pains were too much to reach that lofty softness of sleep again.

Beneath the sharp hunger pains in his gut, he got a sinking sensation. He was sadly certain that, in this instance at least, Sombra was correct. Still, he was determined to try, at least. Drinking had only resulted in a headache in the long run.  _ Not _ drinking deserved a try, too.

It lasted twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes of ever-increasing pangs in his stomach as he went longer and longer without food, and as his mind cleared more and more of its fuzz, leaving nothing else for him to concentrate on. He began to groan intermittently, and could practically  _ feel _ Sombra smirking smugly at him.

“Don’t sound so great over there,  _ mono,” _ Sombra smirked smugly at Winston, raising an eyebrow.

With a heavy sigh, Winston stretched out and grabbed the bottle she’d shoved at him earlier. He spun off the cap blindly and raised his head just enough to wrap his lips around the neck and suck some down. Whatever it was, it was pretty terrible, but at this pointed he just wanted that mindless fuzziness back.

“This is only going to make it worse in the long run,” he posited as he pushed himself somewhat upright, hunching over heavily in a vain effort to crunch down his stomach and fool it into thinking it was less empty than it was.

“Oh yeah,” Sombra agreed readily in a chuckle, stroking at Widowmaker’s braided hair. The assassin’s head was in her lap, and she was unconscious for the moment - or at least mostly unconscious. “Definitely. But you know what? That’s a problem for future you.”

“I think I can say with confidence that future me hates present me,” Winston muttered, pressing at his forehead as Sombra laughed. He still hadn’t managed the strength required to actually  _ look around _ , but he didn’t hear anybody else. “What about the others?”

_ “Araña  _ finished off almost a case of wine last night so she’s out like… well, like one of her own targets, nearly,” Sombra snickered, running a fingertip along Widowmaker’s jawline and grinning at her. She was really looking forward to when Widow woke up again.

In large part because, during the assassin’s sleep, Sombra had put her into one of the souvenir shirts she so clearly despised.

“What about Roadhog? Sleeping or just silent?”

“Guess,” Roadhog grunted from somewhere.

“Okay, I guess sleeping,” Winston chuckled.

“Idiot.”

“Ahh, you’re no fun,” Winston grumbled as he tipped the bottle back and drained about a quarter of it. His throat clenched up in protest, and truth be told he didn’t really  _ want _ to be drinking it at this point, but his hunger was starting to be almost debilitating and this seemed to be the only option. At least it was stomach contents - it was  _ something. _ Unless he wanted to start eating t-shirts, he didn’t have a lot of options.

Sombra snickered as she continued to pet Widowmaker’s hair and took another drink. “Man, I wonder what the fuck’s gonna happen when they come to get us?”

Winston groaned again, dropping his head into his hands. “That… is a terrible question, why would you ask that? Maybe we’ll get lucky and only one side will show up.”

Sombra blurted a laugh and tossed a paper ball at the gorilla. “Yeah, and which side’s the lucky one, huh? You think you’d be happy if Gabe showed up to dig us out? You think your little team of super-dumbasses would be able to resist the three of us if they dug us out?”

“I really appreciate your ability to keep things neutral,” Winston muttered wryly at the names she chose, rubbing at his forehead as his thoughts drifted painfully and muddily around the question of whether the two teams would be able to put aside their differences enough to rescue them. “Ohhh… I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it - I don’t want to think about  _ anything. _ My head hurts too much. _ ” _

Sombra shrugged with a chuckle and let it lay at that. She wasn’t sure what would happen either, but she was sort of hoping that Tracer had warned the others and Junkrat had gotten distracted by something shiny or flammable along the way. As much as she got annoyed by Winston’s teammates, boyscouts and paladins did have their upsides and they  _ could _ be relied on for a few things at least.

She often used that to get her way, and it had served her well in the past.

It didn’t really matter, though. There wasn’t anything they could do about it except keep trying to survive, and realistically, it didn’t seem like that would be too hard. With Winston not fighting, there weren’t any  _ real _ threats in here.

They would get really damn hungry - she already was, in fact - but they wouldn’t starve to death.

Hopefully.

...or, they would, and there was nothing to do about it.

Sombra sighed to herself as she frowned.  _ Damn. Humongo was kinda right. _

“We should play Truth or Dare,” the hacker announced out of nowhere.

“I’m not kissing Roadhog,” Winston replied immediately.

_ “Now _ who’s being no fun?” Roadhog chuckled from behind one of the couches.

Winston laughed once at that, a grin overtaking his lips as warmth settled into his gut and pleasant fuzziness in his head once more - or at least, it was starting to. “Pretty sure offering up truths to one of the world’s most notorious hackers is a bad idea, too.”

“Excuse the fuck outta you -  _ one of? _ ” Sombra looked back at him aghast. “I am  _ the _ world’s most notorious hacker, thank you, and don’t you know that Truth or Dare ends when the game ends? C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“Absolutely not,” Winston affirmed.

Sombra chuckled and raised the bottle to her mouth again, shrugging a shoulder. “Said the same thing about drinking,  _ amigo,” _ she muttered over the bottle before taking a swig. Everybody had their breaking point - they’d get there sooner or later.

 

\---

 

“No no, nonono  _ chica _ calm down just-” Sombra ducked as a glass whipped past her head.

“How  _ dare _ you put me in one of these  _ atrocities?!?” _ Widowmaker demanded, grabbing up another glass and holding it over one shoulder, poised to throw again. She held the souvenir t-shirt balled up in her other hand.

She’d  _ screamed _ when she realized she was wearing it after waking up.

“Come-” Sombra ducked the next glass as well, tears of laughter streaking down her cheeks, “come on,  _ amiga, _ you gotta admit this is pretty funny!”

“I will  _ destroy _ you Sombra,” Widowmaker hissed, “I will ruin you, I will rip you to  _ pieces _ , I will-”

“You’re flirting again!”

Off to the side, Winston and Roadhog sat on a pair of leather couches, passing a bright green bottle of sour green apple liquor back and forth.

“Truth or Dare?” Winston asked.

“Truth,” replied Roadhog. He pushed himself sideways on the couch a little bit as Sombra came sprinting over and threw herself behind it with a yelp.

“Hmm,” Winston rubbed at his chin, taking a drink. He reached out a foot and caught Widowmaker’s arm as she yelled in French, wielding the stem of a broken wine glass in one hand like a dagger. “Mmm… what’s your favourite animal?”

Roadhog looked blankly back at him - even with the gasmask off his face would have had exactly the same amount of expression as with it on. Sombra popped up from behind his shoulder, shouting in Spanish, and threw three balled-up t-shirts toward Widowmaker, but he didn’t even look over. He just kept staring flatly back at Winston. “You’re kidding, right?”

Winston frowned a little, tossing Widowmaker off to the side onto another couch as she realized what was holding her back and swung her improvised blade at his toes, but she didn’t manage to make contact before being flung away. “What?” Winston shrugged, largely unconcerned with the chaos happening around them. “Is that a weird question or something? I guess you don’t have to answer if it’s too personal, or something.”

Roadhog frowned unseen behind his mask, catching Sombra’s ankle as she jumped over the couch with what sounded suspiciously like a war cry. She faceplanted on the floor and then spun around, hissing and scratching at his hand, but he just hauled her up by the ankle and dropped her onto the couch and held her there. “No, just… you really can’t  _ guess?” _

Winston leaned in a little, repositioning his glasses and peering over the massive man - the way his mask was upturned, snoutlike; the pig tattoo and the wording on the banner; Winston even considered his name, “Roadhog”, and tried to pull together an inference out of it.

“Uhh…” he leaned forward and caught Widowmaker in a hug, pulling her back and holding her close - she’d dropped her improvised stabbing weapon at some point. “Is it uh…” Winston shrugged. “Is it a pig?”

Roadhog sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s a pig. My turn.”

Winston nodded loosely and held the bottle out for him. Roadhog took it and took a swig. “Okay. Sombra. Truth or Dare.”

She rambled off a rapid string of Spanish, swatting at his hand which still held her down onto the couch, but after about thirty seconds she stopped. “Okay fine,” she sighed. “Dare.”

Roadhog was silent for a moment. A long moment. Then another one.

Winston started to wonder whether he’d forgotten what was happening.

“I was bluffing,” he muttered, and handed her the bottle.

Snickering, Sombra tipped it back for a swig. “Alrighty then -  _ chica, _ Truth or Dare?”

_ “Je te déteste,”  _ Widowmaker hissed back at her, then rolled her eyes. Smirking wide, she looked over with slitted eyes.  _ “Truth.” _

Sombra didn’t hesitate for a second. “What were you thinking the first time we kissed?”

Widowmaker frowned, slowly, and was shocked enough that Winston didn’t need to hold her down on the couch anymore. She was silent for quite a while, then cleared her throat and crossed her legs at the knee. “I misspoke. Dare.”

The hacker raised an eyebrow, grinning, and tossed a souvenir t-shirt at her. “Put this on and do a dance.”

Winston snickered and Roadhog laughed as Widowmaker growled at her, and Sombra chuckled with a sharp grin. “Or,” she suggested with a shrug, “you could tell us all what you were thinking the first time we kissed.”

“Sombra,” Widowmaker murmured softly, thoughtfully, “have I told you lately that I hate you?”

“A couple of times, yeah,” Sombra chuckled, crossing her arms. “C’mon, what’s it gonna be?”

Widowmaker narrowed her eyes and pushed herself up from the couch, pulling the t-shirt on with a visible shudder. _“Holtant._ _Un moment_.” She turned and leaned over, gracefully picking up a bottle of wine and uncorking it with a corkscrew which she produce once more seemingly from nowhere.

It didn’t take her long to drink the bottle. The whole bottle. Upended, her dark lips wrapped around its neck, she downed the contents in about twenty seconds while the others watched in a combination of horror and excitement.

As she set the bottle down, she sighed heavily.  _ “Alors, _ if ghosts are real, I am sure to be haunted by every one of my instructors for this,” she muttered to herself.

Although, realistically, they would probably be the ghosts to worry over the  _ least _ , out of all those that might come back to haunt her.

Then, she began to hum a tune and dance.

It was a piece she’d practiced endlessly in a former life, a piece she still sometimes found herself pacing the steps of. The music snuck into her mind at times, she found herself humming it when looking down the scope, timing her strikes and dodges to the choreography.

Swan Lake.

Sombra watched in awe, legitimately delighted in a hurry and not in the way she’d expected - what she’d intended to be an intense round of teasing had taken an abrupt left turn, derailed entirely by Widowmaker’s seemingly effortless grace and talent, and Sombra watched with bated breath and a huge smile as she danced.

It didn’t even matter that she was wearing one of the ugliest shirts Sombra had ever seen, Widowmaker was still the most beautiful thing she could think of. She seemed less like a human and more like a statue come to life, an effortless display of power and precision as if carved from marble by a sculptor’s laser-bit.

Widowmaker bowed when she finished and all three of them burst into applause, whooping and cheering as the sniper and former ballet dancer smiled, bowed again, pulled off the shirt, twirled it to twist it into a rope, and then leapt across the room at Sombra and wrapped it around her neck.

“Gack!” Sombra choked, tugging at the shirt as Roadhog and Winston tried to pull the snarling assassin off of her. “T-totally - ghnkk -worth it!”

 

\---

 

After another three bottles of wine, half force-fed to her by Winston and Roadhog working in tandem to hold her captive and Sombra handling the actual wine, Widowmaker calmed down.

She sat in one of the couches now with Sombra leaning back against her, grinning like a fool and running her hands through the hacker’s long hair. “So soft,” she hummed, and then giggled.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Sombra sighed. “See it’s- like it’s hot when you’re trying to kill me and shit, but this is kinda nice too, you know?”

Widowmaker giggled again and tugged Sombra’s hair loosely across her throat. “Why not both?”

Sombra chuckled and shook her head. “Sure, both  _ amiga. _ Whatever makes you happy.”

“Mmm,” Widowmaker sighed through her nose, nuzzling at the back of Sombra’s head. The tip of her nose bumped against implanted electronics, but only lightly. “Or at least, whatever I want, yes?”

“Yeah, that too.” Sombra rolled her eyes, grinning. She should’ve known that Widow would take offence to the word  _ happy _ because it was too emotional or whatever.

_ “D’accord,” _ Widowmaker murmured and squeezed Sombra tight.

“Bored,” Roadhog grunted from another couch.

“Well, play a game with Winston or something,” Sombra muttered, waving a hand that way dismissively.

“What am I, a babysitter?” Winston grunted.

“You calling me a baby?” Roadhog leaned forward from his couch.

“Alright alright don’t you two start fighting now,” Sombra sighed, “otherwise you might just break the whole fucking resort and kill us all, alright? And I didn’t go surviving all the shit I survived just to die here with you dweebs.”

“Me neither,” Winston grunted. Roadhog nodded once to voice his agreement.

“There are still so many people I have not killed,” Widowmaker sighed wistfully. “I cannot die yet either.”

“It’s good to have goals,  _ amiga,” _ Sombra assured her with a grin.

“Still die. Now. Later. Doesn’t matter.”

Sombra groaned softly and muttered swears under her breath, leaning forward to pick up a bottle from the table nearby and twist the top off. She tried twice before realizing that it was, in fact, already open. She took a deep swig.

“You really gotta shut up with that shit,  _ chico,” _ she grumbled in Roadhog’s general direction, collapsing back into Widowmaker’s embrace. “I know you don’t mean it, anyway. ‘Cause if you did, you’d be dead. Not like you need somebody else to do it for you.”

There was a tense moment of silence as Roadhog slowly turned to look at her, and she just grinned back at him. Winston tipped his bottle back and drained the rest of it, preparing himself for the possibility that he might need to jump forward and intervene.

Roadhog didn’t say anything, not for a while. Sombra had managed to land upon something that actually was a good point - something that  _ wasn’t _ that simple.

Because he wasn’t dead.

Because the world was dead, but he wasn’t, and he  _ stayed _ not dead - so if it really  _ was _ all pointless, then why not be dead?

Sombra started to snicker, then it grew into a sloppy giggle. “See?” She pointed a finger at him with a grin. “I knew it! I knew it,  _ chico -  _ somewhere down in you, you know that there’s a point to fighting it all!”

“Or a point to sticking around and making sure everyone else suffers enough to pay for it,” he growled, and her eyes widened.

“Ohhhh shit,” she whispered, then grinned and pointed at him. “You sound just like Gabe!”

Roadhog grumbled, grumpily, and picked up a new bottle from the floor. “Fine. Life sucks. Lost my home, lost my wife, lost my life. Excuse the fuck out of me for being grumpy about it.”

“Nah it’s cool  _ chico, _ ” Sombra grinned, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder. It didn’t work because he was a little too far away, but he slid closer with a grunt and on the second swing she got him. “Like… I get that. The world  _ does _ fuckin’ suck sometimes. Like when that LumeriCo prick got off scot-free? Or- or how that Volskaya bitch stabbed me in the back?”

“Mmm, I still owe you a strangling for making me miss my shot,” Widowmaker murmured softly from behind her, upending a bottle of wine with one arm wrapped around Sombra’s waist.

“Yeah, later  _ chica,  _ I promise,” Sombra waved her off. “But- but that’s the thing,” she gestured to Roadhog. “You keep living. Whatever the reason is, there’s a fuckin’  _ reason _ and like… yeah the world sucks. But y’know. That just happens. You lost your home and your wife and shit, that’s terrible! It’s a disgrace!”

She chuckled a little, shrugging as she took a swig of the bottle she held loosely in one hand. “Yeah, but… y’know, I lost  _ mi familia, mi casa, _ hell,  _ mi _ whole fucking  _ life! _ You too. Plus the hot  _ chica _ behind me. Also that guy,” she waved her bottle toward Winston.

“I still don’t know if I can own a cat,” he whined. “Half my family killed the other half and now they’re all up on the moon, and then my new adopted family got all torn to pieces and outlawed, and… and…” he frowned heavily. “And life kinda sucks.”

“Damn straight it does,” Sombra agreed, raising her bottle. “To shitty life. To  _ mi familia. _ ”

“To shitty life,” Winston sighed, holding his bottle up. “To Hammond.”

“To shitty life,” Roadhog agreed almost excitedly. “To my wife, my home, my friends.” He hesitated for a second. “My daughter.”

“Oooh a daughter,” Widowmaker cooed suddenly, leaning forward against the edge of the loveseat she and Sombra occupied, stretching out and laying a hand on Roadhog’s shoulder. “Oh Mako darling, you never said! Oh, I do  _ love _ children, ahh…”

She leaned back, her hand drifting away thoughtlessly as she sighed and looked up to the ceiling. “Mm, never had one myself, no, but I do love them. Oh - maybe we could get one,  _ cherie?” _

“What, a kid?” Sombra wrenched her head around suddenly. “W-we can’t-  _ chica, _ we’re having a toast about life being shitty! Sharing in our mutual misery and shit, and like… bonding through common suffering.”

“Yeah,” Winston frowned a little. “Stop spoiling it by talking about cute things like babies and kittens with the- the fur and the little ears and-” he shook his head abruptly. “See! You’re ruining it!”

“But they’re so  _ cute!”  _ Widowmaker gushed. “Ah, with their  _ petite _ little fingers and toes and - oh Mako darling you could put them in little outfits and-”

“Just- just finish the damn toast and then you can change the topic,” Sombra urged.

Widowmaker groaned a heavy sigh, dropping her head back. “Ugh! Fine, very well - to shitty life! To the husband I murdered, to never getting another round of applause on the stage, to going from the limelight to the shadows. Things suck and we all have our darkness in our past and blah blah blah bl-” she cut herself off, upending her bottle of wine as the rest of them took a drink as well, sealing their pact of acknowledgement of the more painful side of life.

The instant the bottle left her lips, though, she was back to talking about children. “But we could dress them up - imagine,  _ Sombra, mon épine, _ picture this, yes.” Widowmaker stretched out a hand, “how cute would a child be with your little skull facepainted on, hmm?”

Sombra raised an eyebrow over a grin, chuckling softly as she laid back against the assassin and tried to get an arm around her. Their limbs were all tangled, but she didn’t care in the slightest - if anything, it was kind of nice. “Not sure gang shit’s exactly the best for kids,  _ chica, _ ” she pointed out.

Widowmaker blew a raspberry. “Oh _pbbbbbt_ , it will be _our_ child of course it will have gang things. It will be a ruthless little cretin and adorable as well. We could dress it up in a tiny-” she gasped, eyes wide, “-oh a tiny version of my outfit! Oh, _avec un_ _petit_ little Widow’s Kiss as well, awwwww,” Widowmaker smiled and took another swig of her wine. “Functional, of course.”

“You want to give a child a functional rifle?” Winston murmured through a frown.

“Irresponsible,” Roadhog grunted.

“Hey! You leave her alone!” Sombra snapped at them. “If she wants to give her baby a gun she can give her baby a gun, alright?”

Winston shrugged. “Sorry,” he muttered, taking another drink. “At least make it one of those ones with the foam darts though. Please?”

“What, a Nerf gun?”

“No, the-” Winston shook his head, “the ones that shoot the foam darts.”

Sombra frowned. “Yeah. A Nerf gun.” Roadhog nodded, agreeing that that was what they were called.

“Noooo,” Winston sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “no, the ones that- with the darts, they shoot the little foam darts, those ones. I can’t remember what they’re called.”

“They are called Nerf guns,  _ galopin,” _ Widowmaker sighed, “and yes of course it would be a Nerf gun at first. They would need to prove their competency and accuracy before earning access to a real rifle.”

“It’s not called a Nerf gun!” Winston groaned, dropping back to the floor.

“Those ones with the darts?” Roadhog grunted, shaking his head. They were definitely called Nerf guns.

“What?” Winston glanced over to him in confusion.

Roadhog looked back at him flatly. “Those plastic guns that shoot the foam darts?”

Winston frowned slowly. “What, Nerf guns? What about them?”

Everybody groaned heavily, and more than one threw a t-shirt or an empty bottle at Winston.

 

\---

 

“Boo! Booooooo!” Winston cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the screen as Leticia walked in through the front door. He picked up a glass and threw it at the floating holographic projection and it passed right through Fernando’s head without even disturbing the picture.

“Why are you with her?” Winston accused the man on screen as he took three dramatic steps forward and then stopped just out of arm’s reach. “She’s awful! You should be with Josefina instead!”

“Yeah but,” Sombra leaned over heavily on his shoulder, “yeah, but Josefina thinks Fernando is gay, remember? Because Teresa was trying to get him together with Carlos.”

_ “Carlos? _ ” Winston shook his head. “No, no he loves Miguel, he wouldn’t-” he gasped as his eyes flew back to the screen. “Wait. Wait I forgot that-”

“Leticia drugged him, yeah,” Sombra nodded sadly, “to make him forget about their affair so he wouldn’t tell Teresa, because then Teresa woulda told Eduardo and Leticia woulda lost her modeling contract, and that’s the only reason she wants to get with Fernando anyway ‘cause he’s-”

“Because he’s the most eligible male bachelor fashion designer in the city,” Winston finished conspiratorially, shaking his head in disbelief at the screen. “You… you are a real  _ bitch _ , Leticia!”

Sombra cackled briefly, shaking her head. “Rem-remember when we watched that first episode and Rosa stole her baby and you were like ‘how dare you do that to innocent Leticia?’ that was hilarious!”

“Yeah well I didn’t know she was such a bitch back then!” Winston asserted, swigging at a bottle again. “Plus, plus -  _ she _ stole the baby in the first place from Carlos and Miguel! They’re the ones who bothered adopting it from Argentina in the first place.”

Widowmaker frowned heavily, reaching out and taking the bottle from Winston’s hand for a drink. “I do not remember Argentina. Is she the short one, who cooks?”

“That’s Gabriela,” Roadhog corrected softly, “Argentina’s the country they adopted the baby from. Also Argentina was Teresa’s sister in that episode-”

“-mmm, where Teresa got in the car accident, yes,” Widowmaker sighed. “I remember that. Jorge should have finished her off rather than driving away - if he had done his job carefully, she would never have been able to testify against him in the court and he would not be in jail.”

Giggling, she shrugged. “It is as I always say! If you wish to be free, kill people.”

“That doesn’t seem like a phrase that would apply in too many places,” Winston pointed out.

“Mmm, it is surprisingly apt,” Widowmaker shrugged again. “About to be detained by police? Kill them and go free. Captured by insurgents? Kill them and go free! Your heart belongs to an annoying girl?”

She turned, grinning widely, fixing Sombra with a smile. “Well, it is a surprisingly apt saying.”

Sombra just frowned at the screen. “Wait a second. Wait wait- fuck. Fernando is Teresa’s brother. Why wasn’t he in that episode? ‘Cause he woulda known that Jorge- wait,” she cut off and turned to look at Widowmaker. “Did you just imply you’re gonna kill me ‘cause you love me?”

Widowmaker gasped, a hand flying to her chest. “Oh,  _ non, _ no of course not  _ ma cherie,” _ she pouted, leaning forward to kiss Sombra on the cheek. “Only that it would be a useful way to win my freedom back in the event that that happened, that is all.”

“Ooookay,” Sombra cleared her throat, “well you’re free to do whatever you want,  _ chica!” _

Widowmaker giggled, laying down to rest her head in the hacker’s lap. “I know! That is why you are still alive, yes.”

“She gets  _ particularly _ murdery when she’s drunk,” Winston muttered into Sombra’s ear, and Sombra just nodded with a chuckle, stroking at Widowmaker’s hair.

Roadhog sighed as the screen transitioned to a park instead of a city. “I think Miguel’s not really gone. He’ll come back from England.”

“Yeah, but Carlos has amnesia now and their baby got stolen, that’s why he left,” Winston pointed out.

“Miguel won’t care. Just deal with the amnesia,” the massive man shrugged. “They fell in love once, they can do it again.”

“...what about the baby?”

Roadhog tipped his head to the side. “Huh. Maybe they get a bunch of guns and hunt down everyone who was involved, and then get the baby back from Rosa - Carlos’ sister, she stole it from Leticia and then fled to Argentina, remember? The country, not Teresa’s sister.”

“Oh, Mako darling, that sounds wonderful - hunting down all those people, so romantic, yes,” Widowmaker hummed from Sombra’s lap.

“Mmkay I’ve seen it before and I can say with confidence that that’s  _ not _ exactly what happens, but it does sound pretty awesome anyway,” Sombra snickered.

They all hummed and faded into silence for another few minutes, as Rosa (Carlos’ sister who was safeguarding the baby while her brother recovered from his amnesia) and Francisca (who was Leticia’s sister, but neither of them knew as a result of them being separated at birth in a hospital mixup, but Fernando had found the records which proved it) had a date in an Argentinian park which ended with Francisca tearily on one knee, holding up her mother’s ring (her mother, who had died only the last episode and caused a fight between the two of them over the phone) and proposed.

All four of them gasped and cheered when Rosa said yes, the two women jumping and hugging each other happily, and the four sighed and awwed when Francisca slipped the ring onto Rosa’s finger.

“Swords?” Winston asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“The fucking what?” Sombra looked at him in confusion. “Swords?”

“Yeah,” he rolled one shoulder in a shrug. “You said that it didn’t  _ exactly _ go that way, with the guns and the hunting people and the baby and all. So… not guns? Swords? If it doesn’t go  _ exactly _ that way it’s gotta be close, right?”

Sombra glanced around between them as three sets of eyes all swiveled to fixate on her, and she just chuckled and shook her head. “Hey, I’m not spoiling it for you! You gotta watch and see for yourself.”

 

\---

 

_ Thump. _

“Ugh, turn it off.”

_ Thump thump. _

“Winny! Fuckin’... go deal with that, wouldja?”

_ Thump thump thump. _

“You go deal with it, annoying girl.”

“I said  _ Winny _ not  _ Widdy. _ You’re drunk, go back to sleep.”

_ “You’re _ drunk. I do not sleep and you should know this by now.  _ Tu ne m’ecoute pas.” _

“I listen to you all the time,  _ chica,  _ I just wasn’t-”

_ Thump thump thump thump _ .

“Sombra? Is that you?”

“No it’s not me! I’ve been yelling at you to stop it for five minutes now!”

“Well, it’s not me either.”

_ Thump thump. _

“Not me.”

_ Thump. _

“It is not me, either.”

_ Thump thump thump. _

“Same.”

“Well,” Winston rubbed at his face with a groan in the darkness, pulling over another bottle of something - it didn’t even matter at this point. If it had been bleach he probably still would have shrugged and drank it. “Well… it’s actually happening, right? We’re not just like… hallucinating from alcohol?”

“It’s not fucking Alpha or weed or some shit,  _ amigo,” _ Sombra grumbled at him. “Jus’ shut up and go to sleep.”

“I already said I do not sleep,” Widowmaker murmured into her shoulder.

“I’m not talking about you,  _ chica,” _ Sombra sighed, wrapping an arm around the assassin’s back. “And yeah, I know, you- fuckin’ shut down or whatever. Good little programmed computer assassin, beep boop beep boop.”

“Mmm,” Widowmaker nodded sleepily, smiling contently, “beep boop.”

Sombra snickered. It wasn’t true - it wasn’t even half-true - but it could be a comforting thought sometimes for the assassin and she knew it. Probably particularly now; her metabolism was awkward enough to start with, a few days without food couldn’t have helped it.

Not that the thoughts really filtered through Sombra’s mind that cleanly. They more amounted to a general acknowledgment of “Widowmaker good but weird but cute and good”.

“Beep boop,” Sombra agreed with a snicker. She knew Widowmaker didn’t really  _ sleep  _ \- something about dreams or whatever, but whatever the reason, she had to take pills to knock herself out and she thought that made it different. She liked to think that her feelings weren’t real, or that they were malfunctions. 

Sombra couldn’t blame her for that. Sometimes she liked to think the same.

The thumping continued.

“Alright, alright, alright alright alright,” the hacker grumbled, growing increasingly irritated until her bloodshot eyes snapped open. “I’m up! I’m fucking  _ up _ already, fine.” Her cybernetic implants shifted, adjusting to the low light so she could look around.

Not that there was much to see. At least, not much  _ new. _ Nothing interesting or different - the bar was in disarray, shirts and empty bottles scattered everywhere (along with quite a few full bottles as well) and the other things they’d dragged here during their stay.

Frustrated and unable to find the source of the thumping, Sombra groaned a sigh and let her head drop to the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

There, she saw something.

EM signatures, something out and above the ceiling - several somethings. Sombra shouted in delight. “Hey! Hey  _ amigos, _ get the fuck up! We’re saved!”

“Shut up, we’re all done for,” Roadhog grumbled.

“I had to admit it but I agree,” Winston admitted with a sigh.

_ “Puta madre _ you guys really wanna make my life more frustrating, don’t you?” Sombra growled, pushing herself up to her feet.

“That is what you do to me,” Widowmaker groaned from the ground.

“Yeah, but when I do it it’s cute,” Sombra retorted. “When  _ I _ do it I’m flirting, and I’m pretty sure the same doesn’t go for the guerilla gorilla and the little piggy.”

“I take offense at that,” Winston grumbled. “Of the two of us,  _ you’re  _ the guerilla.”

“Same,” Roadhog grunted, “but with little instead of guerilla.”

“I hate all of you except Widowmaker,” Sombra groaned as she picked up an empty bottle.

_ “Je t’aime aussi, ma cherie,”  _ Widowmaker murmured from the floor. “Now stop making so much noise or I will kill you.  _ Merci.” _

“Yeah yeah, sorry about this  _ amiga,” _ Sombra sighed, and then threw the bottle at the ceiling as hard as she could. “HEY ASSHOLES! WE’RE IN HERE!”

The other three all made assorted noises of displeasure and clamped hands or arms over their own ears.

The thumping stopped.

A very, very muffled something - maybe a voice - came from above them, and the thumping started again. Faster this time, it started to resolve into the rhythmic sound of shovels piercing snow. 

Sombra laughed, falling to her knees and stretching her arms to the ceiling. “Yes! Rescue! Finally!”

“W-what?” Winston pushed himself upright. “Are you sure?” Shock and excitement cut through the haze of alcohol a little bit, and he laughed excitedly. “Well that’s great! W- well, wait,” he frowned as a thought struck him. “Who is it? Your team? My team?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Sombra grinned as she stared at the ceiling and watched the signals come closer - still too much interference to decipher what or who they actually were. “Could be the fucking ski patrol, I don’t even give a shit, and if it’s yetis or something we’ll kill ‘em and cook ‘em and eat ‘em.”

“Good plan,” Roadhog grumbled, shuffling over to join them.

Widowmaker reached over, trying to pick up her helmet, her visor. All of her limbs felt heavy, sluggish, and not just from the alcohol - from the lack of food as well and the lack of proper rest. She’d hovered near the edge of unconsciousness but had never planned for this outing to go on so long, and now she was paying the price for poor self-maintenance.

However, she managed to get her visor in place. It hummed as it came online and displayed figures on the other side of the snow - thermal cameras, EM detectors, a very wide range of sensors that could be blocked by no amount of snow, and they painted a very clear picture. She sighed. “Ah, _ mon dieu. _ It is both.”

“Both?” Winston repeated, turning to her. “Wait, Overwatch  _ and _ Talon?”

_ “Oui,” _ she shrugged against the floor. For something so flat and hard, it was fantastically comfortable - she didn’t need to support herself at all, she could count on the floor to do it for her. “I see the tin soldier and Reaper with shovels. Mercy, the Australian, Tracer, Doomfist, the cyborg as well.”

“Damn,” Winston murmured. “And they’re not shooting each other?”

Widowmaker hummed noncommittally. “Not actively. Perhaps they, too, arranged for a truce.” 

“I bet theirs had food,” Roadhog grunted, and all three of them shared a wistful sigh followed by a moment of relative silence.

“Whatcha gonna eat first?” Sombra was the one to ask the question they were all asking themselves anyway.

“A whole bunch of bananas,” Winston sighed, “and at least a half-dozen jars of peanut butter to dip them in.”

“Sandwiches,” Roadhog mumbled. “A hundred of them. Pickle and cream cheese.”

“You will be making me tacos,  _ mon épine _ ,” Widowmaker responded.

“Damn fuckin’ straight I will,  _ chica. _ ” Sombra stared up at the ceiling with joy and hope glistening in her eyes. “You bet your hot French murdery ass.”

 

\---

 

The four of them kept their distance as a hole was cut through the ceiling, and then two figures dropped down through it at once - the man once known as Gabriel Reyes, and the man once known as Jack Morrison.

Bickering like a pair of old biddies.

“- _ deliberately _ hit me in the knee with your shovel,” Jack - or Solder: 76, as he liked to insist endlessly to be called - hissed to the other man.

“Sure I did, boy scout,” sneered Gabriel Reyes, but the list of people who had called him anything other than Reaper in the recent years and survived unscathed essentially amounted to one name.

“You  _ intentionally- _ ” Jack cut off and cleared his throat as he noticed the four of them standing there. “Ah. You’re all... right here, then. Good to see you, Winston.”

“Thanks, Jack!” Winston’s voice was louder than necessary, louder than he’d intended, and he winced at the sound of it a little bit - there wasn’t much time to do so, though, because a whizzing noise and a bright blue blur heralded the arrival of something else.

“Hey big guy!” Tracer zipped into him, tackling him full-force in a hug. Not that it did anything, he didn’t even budge in the slightest - after all, she was quite small, relative to him - but he  _ did _ wrap her up in his arms and squeeze her tight.

She coughed a little and wrinkled her nose. “Oi, not exactly Alpine Fresh there, love.”

“It’s been  _ awful _ , Tracer,” Winston sighed, “there was no food and no running water - we’ve been doing nothing but  _ drinking _ for… uh…” his massive brow furrowed heavily. “How long’s it been?”

“Four days,” Jack grumbled, a little displeased to not be the centre of attention. “Tracer came back and warned us as quickly as she could but the dropship got taken out in the avalanche, and the comm towers downslope from here too. Radio silence.”

“Knew you’d be looking out for us, Gabe,” Sombra grinned, tipping a fresh bottle of tequila back and holding one out to him. “Here’s to you,  _ amigo!” _

“I’m not drinking that,” he muttered, turning to look at Widowmaker. “I expected you to be able to…” he trailed off as he noticed the state of her, and the half-empty wine bottle in her hand. There were dozens of its fallen brethren scattered around the floor. “Wow.” He chuckled. “I honestly don’t know what to say other than that.”

“Sorry you were stuck in here with this lot,” Tracer muttered swiftly to Winston, but not subtly enough to escape notice. Not nearly. Sombra and Widowmaker both shot her annoyed looks. “What?” Tracer crossed her arms. “Right lot of bad apples, you are!”

“Oh, it wasn’t so bad,” Winston shrugged. “I mean, when we weren’t trying to kill each other, that is. I dunno if the alcohol really helped there or made things worse. Did I mention we drank a lot?”

“Yeah, it would seem that way,” Jack muttered, glancing around at the total mess of empty bottles.

Winston nodded sagely. “Yeah. It wasn’t too bad though because we lost our guns.” He frowned and leaned forward, peering through his glasses at the rifle clutched in Jack’s hands. “You didn’t lose your guns.”

“Truce,” the former commander grunted, lifting his chin a little. “A tactical, erm, decision.”

Reaper snorted.

“Athena was real worried,” Tracer muttered out of the side of her mouth to explain, again lacking almost any hint of real subtlety. “When it turned out Talon was gonna be here too, she sent along a dozen dropships armed to the teeth and said she’d shoot anybody who didn’t play nice.”

“Even I could not hope to survive such an onslaught,” Genji provided softly from the back.

“Speak for yourself,” Reaper muttered as he stepped toward Sombra and Widowmaker. They each gave little nods, wordless indications that they didn’t require any further attentions - at least, not anything pressing. “I’m legitimately surprised at the lack of blood in here. I don’t know whether to say well done, or that I’m disappointed in you.”

“Oh yeah,” Sombra nodded with a grin, “because fights with the gorilla have gone so well for  _ you _ , historically.”

He growled a little and ground his teeth, but couldn’t say anything else on the matter.

“Are you alright, Winston?” Mercy approached. “Do you require any-”

“Stay away from my team,” Reaper interrupted.

Mercy shot him a frown. “I would not do anything untoward to them. My Hippocratic Oath binds me-”

Everybody groaned, on both teams. Mercy huffed, blushed slightly, and went to check Winston’s vitals. She blinked a few times. “Oh my. That is… a  _ very _ high blood alcohol content. I believe Pharah and Reinhardt may have a new contender in their games once they find out about this.”

“Did I mention we drank a lot?” Winston blinked down at the petite doctor. “I think I mentioned that but maybe I didn’t.”

“Hey,” Sombra muttered to Reaper, elbowing him lightly. She tipped her chin in Doomfist’s direction. “No offence, but how the fuck did you get him onboard? He isn’t exactly the rescuing type - more the ‘if they’re not strong enough to escape they don’t deserve rescue’ type.”

Reaper chuckled darkly. “Oh, it was going to be a real uphill battle, I was sure of it. So, instead, I disabled all of his prosthetic and augmentation actuators while he was asleep - when he woke up unable to move, he said he’d found a, oh, how did he put it?”

He turned slightly to catch Doomfist’s eye, grinning behind his mask - it couldn’t be seen, but it could be heard in the darkly delighted tone of his voice. “A  _ newfound respect _ for those trapped in situations of helplessness.”

Doomfist scowled back at him. “I would have aided them, regardless. A team must be able to stick together if they hope to accomplish anything.”

Off to the side, Roadhog hugged Junkrat close. He didn’t say anything - and, for once, neither did Junkrat.

“Huh,” Sombra chuckled, grinning slightly. “Guess I underestimated him.”

“Who, Fawkes?” Reaper laughed. “Oh, no, he didn’t let us know about any of this. We intercepted their communications about it and we just happened to find him on the way here. He was trying to light icicles on fire because he thought they looked like torches.”

Sombra chuckled, shaking her head, and Widowmaker grabbed at her wrist and yanked her toward the hole which was their exit. “I am tired. I am hungry. I do not have my gun. I am going home. You,” she pointed at Tracer, “are annoying. You are as well,” she gestured to Genji, “you are both too fast, slow down.”

Then the sniper shrugged in Jack’s direction. “You, I hardly care about. The doctor has a passably cute  _ derrière.” _ Mercy blushed heavily.  _ “Galopin,” _ Widowmaker sighed, “it has been - as Sombra might say and doubtlessly will given her propensity to speak - one hell of an internment. In both possible senses of the phrase.  _ Merci, de rien, et au revoir.” _

With that, Widowmaker nodded, launched off her grappling hook, missed, frowned, tried again, missed again, and then started to climb the rope ladder which hung down through the hole, swearing softly in French the whole time.

She looked around in the glaring sun, and saw only one thing which she cared about - the barrel of the Widow’s Kiss, poking up from the snow, caught in the tangled remnants of a radio tower or something of the sort - twisted scraps of metal which cradled her rifle now, and she ran to it, wrapped it up in a hug, and fell into the snow with a laugh.

Sombra cleared her throat and waited until all eyes were on her, taking a deep breath and savouring the looks of anticipation on everybody’s faces. They were obviously all expecting some long-winded monologue full of witty insights and wisecracks and insults.

“Ditto,” she said simply with a nod, then tossed a Translocator beacon out of the hole and teleported to it. She ended up buried waist-deep in snow but it was worth it for a punchy exit like that. A few seconds later she heard a shout and something hit her, hard - Widowmaker tackling her in a hug and kissing her cheek endlessly. Sombra just grinned and returned the gesture.

Back below them in the resort, Reaper shrugged easily. “I’d just as soon say ‘fuck you all very much, and go die in a hole,’ but if not for your own ineptitude and stupid morals, it might’ve taken me longer to get to my team, so… cheers.” He tapped one metal talon to the forehead of his faceplate in a sort of mock salute as Jack growled, and then swirled into smoke and left.

Doomfist shrugged, frowning slightly. “Hmm. Perhaps there is more bitterness between these groups than I realized.” He glanced between Genji, Tracer, and Winston. “You three - we should meet in battle again, someday soon. I have improved. I hope you have as well. You’re predictable,” he nodded to Tracer, “you’re too cautious,” he pointed to Genji, “and you are reckless but I must admit you back it up well in some cases,” he shrugged at Winston. “Practice and improve, next time I will not be beaten so easily.”

“Did he just give us tips on how to beat him?” Tracer turned to Mercy in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

Mercy just shook her head a little. “Just- just don’t say anything. They’ll all be gone soon.” Tracer’s eyes flicked to a bulge in one of her pockets which hadn’t been there earlier - a bulge that looked suspiciously to be the exact size of a liquour bottle. Mercy grinned back to her with a sheepish shrug.

Junkrat didn’t seem to even notice that anybody else was there. “-never believe it,” he was waving animatedly as he talked to Roadhog, “there were twenty of ‘em! No, no fifty - yeah, that sounds right - fifty Yetis and I had to fight ‘em  _ all _ off. I may’ve lost an arm and a leg in the battle, but it was worth it to be able to get back here and save you, my tubby friend. Now, of course, this  _ does _ mean that you owe me one - or maybe one each, for my arm  _ and _ my leg,” he stroked at his chin thoughtfully.

Roadhog grunted.

_ “WHAT!?! _ ” Junkrat recoiled, aghast.  _ “Already amputated? _ I think I’d know when I got my limbs amputated, mate! These are  _ fresh _ prosthetics - I had ‘em all before you went missing and I had to fight off all those bears to save you.” He turned up his nose as Roadhog grunted softly. “Yeah,” Junkrat huffed, “Yetis, not bears. That’s what I said. Why’re you bringing up  _ bears _ all of a sudden?”

Roadhog picked him up and slung him over a shoulder, climbing the rope ladder out. Junkrat didn’t seem to notice and kept right on talking.

“Well,” Jack cleared his throat when they were gone,  _ “that _ was awkward. Anyway - are you alright, Winston?”

“I’m  _ great _ , Jack!” Winston chuckled, swaying a little. “I learned all kinds of new things!”

“Ahhh,” the old soldier’s face was hidden behind his mask, but his joy was clear in the tone of his voice. “Did a little bit of recon, did you? Clever dog.”

“I’m not a dog, Jack, I’m a monkey,” Winston grumbled, “and I’m not a monkey. That’s right though,” he grinned with a nod, “recon! I reconned all kinds of new things!”

“How drunk are you?” Tracer inquired softly. As Winston leaned a little more heavily on her shoulder, her eyes widened and she had to struggle to put up with the extra weight.

“I don’t know,” Winston giggled, “how drunk are  _ you?” _

Jack sighed and shook his head. “Well, so much for recon.” He patted a hand on Winston’s shoulder. “It’s… it’s good to see you. You had us worried - now let’s get you back to base, alright? Mercy can make sure you get anything you might need.”

“Bananas,” Winston provided instantly, head swiveling in the doctor’s direction. “A lot of bananas! I’m so  _ hungry!” _

They climbed out of the hole together, leaving an absolute mess behind, and after the noise of whirring dropship engines faded, the room fell to silence again.

 

\---

 

Winston slept so heavily the first night. Primarily due to the sedatives Mercy had given him. He’d locked himself in his room and said that nobody was allowed to come in, nobody was allowed to call, nothing.

Of course, Sombra never really cared about what she was  _ allowed _ to do.

Winston was half-awake when his phone screen lit up. “Mrgh,” he pressed at his forehead. “S’too early. Head hurts. Athena? Can you turn it off please?”

“Not her,  _ amigo,” _ Sombra grinned from the screen.

Winston groaned and rolled over, tugging the phone to face him. “What do you want?”

“Just wanted to check in, see how my favourite gorilla’s dealing with his first bender crash.” Her grin was as wide as her face.

“A lot worse now that I see how chipper  _ you _ are about it,” he muttered darkly with a hint of a smirk.

Sombra cackled. “Hey, not my first rodeo,  _ amigo! _ But anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to watch something.”

“Huh?” One of his eyebrows rose high. “Why? I thought you and Widowmaker would be all… I dunno. Whatever.”

“Nah,” Sombra shrugged, pouting. “She’s gotta get all fixed up and stuff in medical, I won’t see her for a couple days. Tried, but they kicked me out. Fuckin’ stupid. Anyway, I just uh… y’know,” her eyes shifted off to the side as she chuckled and shrugged. “I know the truce was just until we got rescued, but uh…”

The silence didn’t last long before Winston laughed, laying back in his bed. “Sure, yeah. I’ve got nothing better to do. Plus, I never found out whether Fernando learned the truth about Leticia!”

He keyed a couple of commands at his phone and a screen lit up on one wall, dimmed substantially so it didn’t hurt his eyes. An episode of  _ El Corazón de la Libertad _ started to play on it, and Winston chuckled a little as he watched with a smile.

Perhaps the truce had only lasted until they were rescued. He was happy to find that there was something beneath it, though - a friendship, perhaps, that might last a lot longer.

 

\---

 

Roadhog wasn’t allowed into the Talon medical facilities.

Roadhog didn’t care where he was allowed.

After twenty minutes of shouting and grappling, Reaper showed up and made the medical staff back down before things got any worse. There were already many bruises and more than one dislocation amongst the staff members.

He didn't want to cause any problems, anyway - just stood beside the bed and braided Widowmaker’s hair while she slept. He didn’t care about all the tubes plugged into her, and he slid to the side whenever one of the doctors needed to get past. They had their work to do. He had his own things with which to occupy himself.

Reaper pulled up a chair and sat silently beside him, for a long time. Eventually the doctors left, but neither of the two of them did. They just sat there, quietly, unspeaking, as the lights dimmed for the night and the machines Widowmaker was hooked up to softly beeped.

There was more to being a teammate than just going on missions together. Reaper didn’t give a damn about Talon rules or enrolment and neither did Roadhog - they’d be there when Widowmaker woke up.

In an hour or two, Reaper knew he’d be giving Sombra a call too. She deserved to be here as well, but she’d been busy when he popped his head in the door. Laughing and watching a show - she deserved that as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
>  _"Galopin"_ == "Monkey", but in almost an endearing way. Kind of like "oh you little rascal, you little monkey".  
>  _"Quel galopin intelligent"_ == "What a smart monkey"  
>  _"Mono"_ == also "Monkey" basically everybody calls Winston "monkey"  
>  _"Je te déteste"_ == "I hate you"  
>  _"Je t'aime aussi, cherie"_ == "I love you too, dear."  
>  I think the others are pretty obvious/standard?
> 
> I don't speak Spanish very much at all and I've never seen a Telenovela (or even a soap opera) so I literally made that all up off of the top of my head and I hope it doesn't suck XD If it does, please tell me how to make it better!
> 
> I had too much fun with this I think. Please feel free to leave feedback, I love hearing from readers! Hope you liked it, have a good day!


	9. Lovers Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha has never been hiking, so, Angela convinces her to go one weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: No Food
> 
> I had actually planned this one to end up crazier than it did. Like, getting stranded kind of crazy. But I went a different route and I hope you all enjoy it!

Three weeks. They had been dating for three weeks now and Fareeha was really warming up to the idea of Angela being her girlfriend. She had since day one.

_What’s the best way to bring it up? Be direct? Puns? Angela really likes my puns._

The two of them were set to go hiking together that day. Fareeha had never been, preferring the relative safety of the gym over isolation in the woods, but Angela had assured her that they would most definitely have fun and not get murdered.

_“What? You’ve never been hiking?” Angela asked surprised._

_Fareeha blushed a little before she answered, “No, I was never really an outdoorsy person, and, to this day, I still don’t see the appeal of stranding yourself outside to let some axe murderer bury you in a ditch. I get enough exercise at the gym without dying.”_

_Angela laughed at Fareeha’s antics. “Well, that just won’t do! Tell you what, if you go hiking with me one day, we’ll have a great time and I’ll keep you safe.”_

_“Is that a promise?”_

_“Hmm… yes, it is.”_

Angela had called her a few days earlier to ask if she was free to go hiking that weekend. Fareeha couldn’t say no. She even offered to bring lunch for them, which consisted of sandwiches, fruit, and a ton of trail mix. The trail mix was purely for the fact that they were going hiking. She thought it was hilarious.

A text notification from her back pocket let Fareeha know that Angela was waiting outside in her car. She quickly stuffed the small cooler bag with their lunch into a backpack and locked up her apartment before meeting Angela outside.

“Hello, beautiful, fancy meeting you here. Come here often?” Fareeha was most definitely hiding behind humor at the moment. As soon as she got into the passenger seat and saw Angela sporting a tank top, shorts, and knee socks, her mind went blank. _And that damn hat. She’s too perfect._

By now, Angela was used to Fareeha’s humorous flirting. She was probably nervous. It helped that she still found it charming. “You know, you’re quite the looker yourself. And I do, in fact, come here often.” A quick peek at the passenger side confirmed that Fareeha was a blushing mess. _Cute._

Angela expertly maneuvered her car back onto the street and set off for a trail that a mutual friend had recommended. She would have gone to the national park that she frequented, but she thought it would be nice to go hiking where neither of them had been. “I’m glad you agreed to come with me today. I don’t know how to describe it, but I’ve never been this happy to go hiking before. It’s exciting.”

Fareeha sat still in the passenger seat, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “I think there should be a new rule.”

“New rule?”

“Yes, buy a girl dinner first before you make her heart pound.”

Fareeha smiled wider at the laugh that came from Angela.

“Okay, then, if my calculations are correct, you owe me quite a few dinners.”

_Well, that backfired in the best way possible._

-

They arrived at their destination a little before ten in the morning. Angela made sure they grabbed everything they needed for the hike before locking the door. She pulled out a large canteen and handed it to Fareeha. “Here, it matches mine and keeps the water really cold.”

Fareeha gratefully accepted the gift. Water was one of the last things on her mind when she was getting ready, so, she had forgotten to bring any. “Ah, thanks. You’re a real lifesaver.” She took a swig from the canteen and stretched her limbs. “Alright, let’s get to hiking the…” She trailed off to read the sign they were parked in front of. “Lovers trail? Angela, I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

Angela blushed hotly. “Lena recommended it to me! She said that she had a great time with Emily the last time they were here.” _I can’t believe she set me up._

“Oh, I’m sure they had a great time hiking among other things.”

Angela quickly sped past Fareeha. She felt like she was going to melt if she had to look at that smug smile a second longer. “We should really hit the trail already. It’s a long one and it wouldn’t do to have a late start.”

Fareeha jogged to catch up with Angela. They walked the beginning of the trail in silence before she decided to grant Angela some mercy. “It’s okay if you wanted to be romantic. I like you, a lot. And I’d like to believe that you feel the same about me.”

Angela didn’t hesitate to respond, “Yes! Of course I do.”

“Then a little romance is good, yeah?”

The awkward tension in the air from before melted away. It felt a little silly to have been embarrassed in the first place. “Okay, then. Since we’re having a romantic hike, you wouldn’t mind holding my hand for a bit. From my experience, my right hand gets a little lonely right around this time.”

They held hands on and off again for a good portion of their walk. Fareeha found that the whole walking through nature in the middle of nowhere ordeal wasn’t as bad as she had previously thought it to be. The fresh air felt nice and the scenery was beautiful. She and Angela even managed to snag a silly selfie with a friendly deer they came across.

When they reached the end of the trail, Angela pulled out a blanket and set it out on the grass a little way from the path. “I am absolutely starving. You brought lunch, yes?”

Fareeha settled herself on the blanket next to Angela and pulled out the cooler bag from her backpack. “Yup. Today we’ll be dining on…” She trailed off when she saw the contents of the bag. Empty containers. Empty containers that were supposed to be filled with the food she prepared earlier that day. Empty containers that were heavy enough on their own that she thought she had actually packed their lunch. “Absolutely nothing.”

Angela snapped her head to look at the bag herself. A good minute passed in silence. Even though they were in the middle of nature, Fareeha couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of her own heart. She messed up. Bad. Then, just as she was going to offer an apology, Angela laughed. _Oh god, she’s snapped and it’s all my fault._

“I can’t even be mad right now. This is the funniest thing that’s happened in a while. My perfect girlfriend forgot the lunch she made. This is too great.” Angela continued to laugh for a while more before she wiped away the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes.

Fareeha sat staring wide-eyed at her the whole time.

“Don’t worry about it Fareeha. I think we can manage the walk back and then we can go stuff ourselves silly when we get back into town. Sound good?”

Fareeha nodded her agreement. “Oh yeah, that sounds fine. Your perfect _girlfriend_ agrees with you.”

The red flush that creeped up along Angela’s face and upper torso was a telltale sign that she understood exactly what Fareeha was getting at. She had been planning on talking to her about making their relationship official sometime soon, but, apparently, throwing around the girlfriend word worked just as well. “Ah, well, you know. If you don’t mind, which I really hope you don’t, it would be neat, like, really neat, if you would be my girlfriend. Please?”

Fareeha was all smiles when she readily agreed. “Yes, of course. I was actually kind of hoping to ask you the same thing. You took the words right out of my mouth. Well, maybe I would have rambled a bit _boulder._ ”

Angela groaned but smiled regardless. “You choose now to use a pun?”

“It wouldn’t be romantic if I didn’t.” Fareeha stood up and dusted off the non-existent dirt from her pants. She held out a hand to help Angela up. “Let’s get out of here.”

They put away the blanket and empty cooler bag in their respective places and were just about ready to go when Angela blurted out, “Wait! We can’t leave yet.”

“Why not?”

“I’d like a picture of us together before we go.”

“Ah, okay, that’s fair.” Fareeha stood next to Angela and held her from the side while she took out her phone.

Fareeha snapped the picture of them smiling next to each other at the end of the trail. Angela looked it over and nodded to herself. “Yes, this one is good. Can we take another one kissing this time? I think that would look really nice, especially with all this nature in the background.”

“You don’t have to be so indirect to get a kiss out of me.”

“But I really want the picture! It would make for a great memory.”

“Okay, okay.” Fareeha leaned in close to Angela so that their lips were almost touching. Angela leaned in the rest of the way, bringing their lips together in a kiss that sent tingles running through their limbs. Fareeha snapped a picture, smiling as she did so.

When they parted, Angela asked Fareeha for her phone to look at the picture. Fareeha handed it over but set off in a sprint as soon as she did.

_Why is she running?_ Angela looked over the picture, pleased that it turned out as well as she thought it would. _It looks nice, I don’t know why she’d just run off like that. Wait…_ “Bunny ears? Fareeha get back here!”


	10. King of Dad Jokes (Bad Puns)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tracer makes a slight misjudgement on a mission with Jack, intending to stop Widowmaker and Reaper. Does he let her live it down quickly?
> 
> ...what do you think?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, Jrade again with a shorter one today and it's sillier too. Hope you like it! There were two chapters uploaded yesterday, so keep that in mind for whatever, heh.

Widowmaker’s grappling line pulled her through the air, and as she flew, she spun and loosed off a shot. Tracer rewound out of the way of the bullet with a triumphant laugh.

She should have known that Widowmaker was a little bit smarter than to shoot  _ at her. _ She had no notice at all before a wave of thick, slick, pink solution splattered all over her.

“Oh,  _ bollocks!” _ Tracer huffed, swiping her hands at her slick arms - she was absolutely  _ coated  _ in liquid hand soap, and as a result, was basically unable to move for fear of falling down.

“What happened?” Soldier: 76’s gravelly voice came over the radio.

“Nothing!” Tracer insisted, glancing around nervously. She tried to sidle to the edge of the hallway, but her shoes skidded dangerously on the floor and she let out a yelp. She could hear the soldier’s pulse rifle sounding, and then heard a laugh.

_ “Slipped up _ , did you?”

“Jack,” Tracer growled over the radio, thankful that her goggles had protected her eyes from the soap but pretty much unable to see as she tried to wipe them clean.

“Looks like you’ve gotten yourself into a pretty  _ slippery  _ situation!” He laughed, letting off another burst of shots.

Tracer groaned. “Ugh,  _ please _ stop.”

“Sorry.  _ Slip _ of the tongue.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Would you just stop the jokes and help me out here?”

“I’d love to,” he sighed, sounding suddenly solemn, “but it’s a  _ slippery _ slope I’ve started down and I-”

Any further words were cut off by Tracer’s loud groan. From somewhere up in the rafters, Widowmaker let off a shot and then followed it up by calling out, “I, too, would like you to be silent please. Thank you.”

He let off a few shots and then his rockets in the general direction of her voice and ran over toward Tracer, looking around quickly. There was only one thing to do.

Tracer outright  _ screamed _ as a torrent of cold water splattered all over her.

Soldier: 76 grinned behind his mask as he hosed her off, stepping closer, unable to shake the feeling that he was a dad rinsing down an unruly kid who had been playing in the mud. He shut off the hose after a good thirty seconds or so and dropped it to the floor. “Now, what have we learned?”

Tracer glared back at him, sopping wet, bubbly water dripping from hair that stuck to the sides of her face. She exhaled heavily, scowling. “Never let you see a weakness.”

“Exactly,” he nodded solemnly, “and what else?”

“That you don’t look where you’re stepping.”

“Exact- wait, what?” His wrinkled brow creased in a frown as Tracer grinned widely and then blinked forward. He braced for the impact, but his feet were solidly on pink hand soap and he went skidding backward across the floor.

He  _ did _ manage to stay upright, though - although it required a lot of undignified windmilling of his arms, and he accidentally flung his pulse rifle off into the warehouse somewhere.

“Ooh,  _ slick _ moves,” quipped Tracer with a grin and a giggle.

“You’re such a  _ wet blanket _ ,” Jack growled back at her, trying to take a step in the direction he’d thrown his rifle. It really didn’t work, though - the floor was dangerously slippery, everywhere that he could see. The spill was only spreading further as the water he’d sprayed Tracer with thinned the soap out and carried it further across the floor.

“Both of you  _ shut up!” _ Widowmaker screeched, leaping down out of the rafters with fire in her eyes. “You are  _ so _ annoying, I-”

As her feet touched the ground, they flew right out from under her. Graceful ballerina or not, she couldn’t hope to contend with the sudsy floor, and yelped as her legs launched out and she landed heavily, skidding forward about twenty feet and knocking Tracer to the ground.

“Oi! Illegal conduct,” Tracer huffed, trying to disentangle her limbs. “Red card!”

“Since when do I care about legality, hmm  _ cherie?” _ Widowmaker laughed, softly at first and then more loudly and more forced. “AND  _ THAT _ IS HOW YOU TELL A JOKE!”

“Your face is a joke,” Jack muttered, spinning to try to stay upright.

_ “What _ did you just say to me?” Widowmaker hissed back at him, and he shrugged as nonchalantly as possible.

“Nothing, nothing - maybe you should clean out your ears. If only we had some soap.”

“Would you three idiots,” Reaper’s voice grated out from the surrounding area, “stop  _ messing _ around?”

There was a beat of silence, Jack trying again to make headway toward his pulse rifle but failing, and just frowning in silence. Tracer’s bracers, soaked by the water, refused to deploy her pulse pistols and she sighed. Widowmaker frowned suddenly with the realization that, somewhere in her slip and fall, she’d lost her hold on the Kiss and it was off somewhere else.

“Get it?” Reaper spoke from the shadows again. _ “Messing around? _ Soap. Soap cleans up messes?”

“Iiiiiif we laugh at your joke will you promise to  _ not _ kill us?” Tracer inquired hesitantly.

Reaper paused for a moment in consideration. “Hmm. Nah.”

Black smoke swirled out of the shadows and Reaper started to laugh, the sound quickly growing to a shrieking cackle as he twirled in a circle, shotguns blaring. “Die, die,  _ di- whaugh!” _

His heavy metal boots flew out from underneath him, shotguns flying out of his grasp and propelling themselves to parts unknown with the force of their own gunshots as he landed flat on his back with a heavy wheeze.

“I- I’m alright,” Reaper croaked, winded. “I’m okay.”

“Oh, good,” Jack muttered, “that means there’s still plenty of ass for me to kick.”

“Please, you can hardly stand up, old man!” Reaper retorted from the ground.

“I’m the only one still on his feet!” Jack crossed his arms in protest, and had just enough time to nod once before Widowmaker’s grappling hook wrapped around his ankle and whipped it out from underneath him, sending him to the floor with a yelp.

_ “C’est la vie,” _ Widowmaker shrugged, then raised an eyebrow to the confused-looking Tracer tangled up with her. “What?”

“Couldn’t you’ve used that to, y’know, get out of this sticky situation?”

Widowmaker laughed. “Surely it is not  _ sticky. _ Anyway,” she shrugged, gesturing loosely toward Jack who now grumbled on the ground next to a cackling Reaper, “that seemed more important.”

“Ugh,” Tracer sighed, dropping her head forward until her forehead rested against the floor. “I just hope Winston never finds out about this.”

“My lips are sealed,” Athena hummed into her ear through the comm unit. “Nothing could possibly  _ slip _ between them.”

In the background of the radio call, clearly audible, Winston was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

_ “Bollocks,” _ sighed Tracer. “You’re taking pics to send to Emily, aren’t you?”

“Indeed,” Athena confirmed.

Widowmaker laughed brightly, then stopped suddenly as a snicker came over her own radio. “Sombra,” she whispered softly.

“Hmm? Oh, what was that  _ Araña? _ You wanted me for something?” Sombra’s sly voice came over the line.

“Please,” Widowmaker insisted, “only promise me that you will not show-”

“Yeah,  _ chica, _ I’m just gonna stop you right there and say that literally everybody in Talon  _ and _ Overwatch is getting a live feed of this, and a recording as well,” Sombra laughed. “I’m making sure of it. So, y’know, smile! You’re on Candid Camera!”

Jack sighed, letting his head rest back on the ground and staring at the ceiling. “I never thought I’d go out like this.”

“There are still so many people I haven’t killed,” Reaper grumbled.

“Same,” Widowmaker added.

“You two have got to re-inspect your life goals,” Tracer muttered. “Y’know. Maybe  _ clean up _ your act.” She burst into laughter as the others groaned and swung their arms, scooping up soap and slinging it at her. “Oi, don’t soap the messenger!”

“That one doesn’t even make sense,” Reaper protested.

_ “None _ of them make sense!” Widowmaker hissed.

“If that’s the case, it was entirely punintentional,” Jack insisted with a snicker.

“I WILL MURDER YOU SO HARD!” Widowmaker screeched. “I HATE YOU!”

The controls rooms of both Overwatch and Talon HQ were filled with laughter; raucous and uncontrolled laughter as they watched their teammates over screens and cameras, slipping and sliding around on the floor.

Requests for backup from both Reaper and Soldier: 76 were summarily denied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's that! Just kind of a silly thing, I dunno. I know they're not even actually puns, but this is what springs to mind when I think about _bad_ puns specifically, or at least what people call bad puns. Anyway, hope you liked it! Have a good day! Also I'll be back tomorrow again too (threat or promise? XD)


	11. Some Kind of Sommelier (Sombra Takes Widow to a Wine Tasting)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a reason why they call it a wine _tasting_ , not a wine _drinking._
> 
> A.K.A. Sombra tries really hard to be a good girlfriend, but sometimes it just doesn’t quite pay off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again folks! Jrade here with another installment (medium length, not quite 8k words); the prompt was: "Sombra tries to be a good gf and take Widowmaker to a fancy wine tasting", and this is what I ended up with!
> 
> For those who are interested, this _is_ canonical as a followup to my Spiderbyte fics "One Night on the Job" and "Wild Horses", so if you like this relationship and are curious to see the development, feel free to check 'em out! One of these days I'll actually collate them properly into a collection or something, heh.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy reading, folks!

“Come  _ on,” _ Sombra half-groaned, half-whined, as Widowmaker twisted in front of the mirror for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Nobody’s gonna be looking at you, relax.”

“Then I am quite clearly wearing the wrong outfit,” Widowmaker murmured idly in response, not taking her eyes off of her own dress in the mirror.

Sombra groaned loudly and fell back flat on the bed, covering her face with her hands. “That was a dirty trap.”

_ “Oui,” _ Widowmaker smirked, catching her own eyes in the reflection. She liked them, how striking they were - not just in colour, not just in contrast, but in… composition. Something like that. Perhaps it was true that they were the windows to the soul, that who a person was truly shone through their eyes - if so, she quite liked the idea that the first reaction to seeing  _ hers _ was a little fear-borne leap in heartrate.

Not for herself, of course, her heart continued in its lethargic monotony - but for others, that was what it did, and she could at least recognize inklings of the same when she caught her own eye.

“Seriously, what’re you so worried about?” Sombra propped herself up on her elbows, a grin overtaking her lips without thought as she looked at Widowmaker again. She’d been looking away for twenty whole seconds, so it was almost like seeing it again for the first time. It was one hell of a dress - but she wasn’t really surprised at that.

She had been, a little bit, at first; meeting Widowmaker, she’d presumed the way a lot of people did that the sniper carried out her whole life with the same level of ruthless (and even empty) efficiency. Once she’d started to get a few more glimpses into what happened behind the scenes, though - once she’d seen the dresses and the silks, the vintage wines, the expensive furnishings for self and for home (not to mention the home itself!) Sombra had quickly stopped being surprised by things like that anymore.

Impressed, still, but not surprised. If Widowmaker had said that her handbag was personally hand-stitched by the ghost of Louis Vuitton, Sombra would have believed her.

The dress in question was something between silk and velvet, some new material out of Seoul, and blood red - not what people  _ called _ blood red, but rather that deep, rich,  _ dark _ hue of blood in the vein, blood held in a bag. Not bright blood oxygenated and spread across the skin or the floor, but somehow capturing that vivid depth that only came from peering into a larger volume of that essence of life, and it seemed so fitting against her pale blue skin. Fitting, striking, and maybe a little bit scary.

Exactly how Sombra liked it.

There would be little better in terms of descriptors for the dress than to call it a form-fitting cascade of ripples and overlaps; a soft-looking torrent that enveloped Widowmaker, backless and cut deep down the chest (although not as deep as her  _ professional _ outfit) and slit halfway up the thigh, the hem reaching her ankles - or at least, if there  _ was _ a better description, Sombra couldn’t think of it.

“Damn hot” sprung to mind and was definitely  _ accurate _ , she just didn’t think it really summed it up.

Widowmaker’s eyes flicked over that way as the sniper raised an eyebrow. “Worried? I worry over nothing.” She smirked, heels clicking on the floor as she approached Sombra. The hacker had been a bit of an annoyance before they became involved, and it had only increased as time went on - she grew consistently and persistently more annoying.

Widowmaker thought there might have been a time she hadn’t liked that, but it wasn’t the case anymore - Sombra’s annoyances were interesting, often, endearing occasionally, and amusing with a high frequency. On top of which, their involvement had given Widowmaker access to a wide new range of methods to  _ deal _ with the situation (along with a host of other benefits) - a new mass of ammunition, and that was always welcome.

...on top of all of that, there was simply the way that Sombra looked at her. A combination of awe and terror, like she couldn’t help but hang around and gape but she also worried she was about to get her neck snapped.

Widowmaker liked that, too.

“I am only  _ wondering,” _ the assassin corrected, bending over to stroke a manicured fingernail along Sombra’s jaw, starting back near the ear and drawing forward to the chin. She grinned at the way Sombra’s eyes fell to the deep neckline of her dress, and pushed the hacker’s chin up with a fingertip in order to lock eyes. “Wondering how you will ruin this.”

Sombra nodded idly, eyes a little glazed over. Then, she blinked - then she blinked a second time, and  _ then _ , she frowned. “Hey!”

Widowmaker snickered and stepped back as Sombra pushed herself up off of the bed and straightened her own dress - it really was impressive in its own right. Black, tight, and sparkling on a minuscule scale, a thousand tiny points of brightness standing out from it and glinting and shimmering; it went only to Sombra’s knees, strapless and backless as well - it did a very good job of highlighting her athletic form.

“Are we quite offended?” Widowmaker murmured, stepping behind Sombra as the hacker crossed her arms and pouted. “Aww,” she purred into Sombra’s ear, “what a  _ shame. _ I was so looking forward to this. It will be a  _ delight _ to see how you manage to ruin such a thoughtful gift - one this great will tax your abilities to their limits!” She laughed lightly, brightly, softly as she saw goosebumps crawl up Sombra’s neck, and took a second to trace them with the tip of a fingernail.

“I um,” Sombra gulped, clearing her throat (but not her head), “thanks? That’s- yeah, yeah you’re right,” she latched on to a thought that managed to make it through her mind. There were a lot of thoughts going through it right now, and somehow one managed to make it through that didn’t involve ripping the shit out of that gorgeous dress, and she caught it and held it and ran with it. “You’re right! This really was a thoughtful gift, yeah.” She turned her head to flash a grin over her shoulder and up to Widow. “You’re welcome. Damn you’re tall and hot in those heels.”

_ “Merci,” _ Widowmaker hummed with a smile,  _ “et de rien. _ Now, come,” she offered her hand.

“Excellent idea  _ amiga,” _ Sombra half-growled, eyes heavily lidded and voice heated as she tried to tug Widowmaker back toward the bed - it was at least half jokingly, though. Probably.

“Animal.” Widowmaker sighed, rolling her eyes (with a smirk) and pulling Sombra toward the door. “You must suppress your urges for this event. I have no wish to be embarrassed by you.”

“Hey, don’t worry about me,  _ chica,”  _ Sombra chuckled. “I can handle my stuff - and besides, isn’t this wine tasting  _ my _ gift to you? So, if you think about it that way, I can’t possibly do it wrong.”

“Oh really?” Widowmaker shot a flat glance over to Sombra, who chuckled nervously.

“Well, I just mean, you know,” she cleared her throat, “oh whatever anyway - relax! You’re always getting too worried about this shit,  _ amiga -  _  just calm down and enjoy yourself for once, will you?”

“I always enjoy myself,” Widowmaker muttered, “except for when you are around.”

Sombra snickered. “Yeah, because when  _ I’m _ there, it’s so good that  _ ‘enjoyment’ _ doesn’t even cut it!” She laughed, swiping a hand over a floating series of controls to open up the dropship she’d brought down for them.

Widowmaker didn’t respond to that with anything other than a smirk, but it was very nearly true. Perhaps not so much in a sense of ‘good’ and ‘bad’, but she really  _ couldn’t _ describe what things were when Sombra was there.

Not that she had particularly  _ tried. _ They were what they were, they had what they had, and she had no desire at all to map it out or label it or try to plumb its mysteries. The pair of them were in it for enjoyment, it was as simple as that - they’d always had fun throwing remarks back and forth, little digs at each other.

When it had evolved - that night Sombra had been shot - it was natural enough, nothing more than a widening of scope and scale. Now it was a regular thing, movie nights or simply  _ nights, _ and the occasional stolen moment on missions, and a whole new library of slights and sly snark to use in their games.

Maybe it _was_ more than enjoyment. It was certainly  _ deeper _ than just that.

 

\---

 

The location was packed, people milling in elegant dresses or immaculate suits, and Widowmaker’s eyes flickered around the scene intently. It was so familiar in so many ways; she was simultaneously sizing each person up based on who had designed their outfit, where they would therefore fit amongst the ranks of the elite - whilst also judging them based off of frame, stance, weapons that they might have thought concealed.

A slow and sharp grin split her lips. She was the richest person in this room, and she could kill every single one of them as well - besting them in every avenue possible. She chuckled to herself as her eyes slid from two men hand-in-hand (whose suits weren’t even  _ bespoke _ but rather rack items with tailored alterations) over to an expectant mother who had no doubt given her tailor quite a time with that dress. In fairness, the tailor had done quite a good job - but still, as the presumable father came over with a grin and five buttons at his cuff rather than three, Widowmaker couldn’t help but smile.

She was so clearly better off than them all.

It wasn’t a great surprise. She generally was - certainly in the realm of combat - and this wasn’t an extravagant event, particularly. Perhaps Sombra thought it was, and admittedly it was one of the greatest ones that the general public could hope to attain, but there were whole castes of elitism above that, lofty realms of luxury that she was looking forward to reattaining.

As they stepped past three people hugging tightly, Widowmaker slipped her arm through Sombra’s elbow on a whim. It felt fitting, somehow.

Sombra didn’t glance over. Although she wanted to, she was a little bit surprised by the arm - and maybe a little bit scared of making too big a deal out of it - so she just gave Widowmaker’s arm a little squeeze and kept looking around. That had her plenty distracted, anyway: there was so much cash here, so much power.

For a few moments, she wondered what it would be like at one of the  _ really _ elite events. The ones you couldn’t hack your way into - the ones where you needed a  _ name _ , the right one on your birth certificate or at least the right one to shake hands with, in order to get in.

“No working,” Widowmaker murmured out of the side of her mouth, leading the way through the swirling masses of people. She could see the look in the hacker's eyes. “This is a day off.”

“I wasn’t going to!” Sombra protested, then smirked. “Or at least, not  _ much.” _

“Sombra, for every dollar you steal or device you hack,” Widowmaker cautioned, “I will kill you. Do you understand? No work.”

“Fine,” Sombra rolled her eyes, grinning. “Lucky you’re hot. I don’t usually let people order me around like this.”

“You are like an infant puppy around Reaper,” Widowmaker countered.

Sombra snickered. “Yeah, well he’s hot too. Less than you, though. But I mean, if you feel the urge to  _ prove _ that somehow, I’m not gonna protest! Might I suggest a round or two of Jello wrestling?”

Widowmaker sighed a chuckle as they approached a table. She smiled and listened as the woman explained a vintage she clearly didn’t understand that well - next to her, though, was an omnic standing silently. They were the one actually offering the wine, and no other employees were within sight.

“What do you think of it?” Widowmaker inquired idly as she took a glass from their tray.

“Madame?” The omnic tilted their head slightly in deference.

“The wine.” Gold eyes flicked toward the woman who had stalled in her obviously rehearsed explanation, thrown off by this change in the status quo. “She is clearly an imbecile. No vintner would permit their product to be at an event like this without knowledgeable oversight, ergo you must be in charge.” She grinned. “As well, I saw you  _ flinch _ when she mispronounced  _ pinot noir _ , so, tell me about the wine.”

There was a pause, but not a large one -  _ long _ , but not large. It stretched no further than the pair of them, as Sombra grabbed a glass as well and then turned away to chat to the woman there who  _ professed _ to know about the wine. The rest of the event continued with no care whatsoever to the oddly-tinged woman in a red dress who apparently chose to speak with one of the serving staff.

“Madame would know that an omnic cannot own a business in this country, nor any property,” the omnic tipped their head again.

“I  _ murder _ people for a living,” Widowmaker purred softly, smiling over the rim of her glass as she inhaled deeply. It had a wonderful bouquet. “You think I care about the legality of business ownership? Now tell me about your wine.”

There was another moment of hesitation, the omnic’s head shifting just slightly to either side. They set their tray down on a nearby table and leaned in -  Widowmaker tipped her glass back for a sip, swirling it around her mouth. She smiled, triumphantly and happily as well, as the omnic provided her with very in-depth tasting notes (and more than one frustrated comment about the woman who was acting as the vintner). The words were quiet, soft secrets only for her ears, and she appreciated that even more than the information itself - but not as much as she appreciated  _ winning. _ The omnic had sought to stay hidden and she’d seen straight through the ruse; that was the real joy of the interaction.

A few moments later, she set her glass down and stepped away, taking note of the vineyard - she would need to arrange for a purchase. It was quite good. She had long suspected that things such as wine could benefit greatly from the introduction of non-humans; omnics or perhaps modified humans, with greater ranges or more specific tastes. Of course, they needed that intuition as well, that  _ je ne sais pas _ and ambition and  _ passion _ to drive their wine.

She was perhaps surprised to have found it there, but if so it was a welcome surprise.

“That was actually pretty good,” Sombra hummed, sounding thoughtful. “And it was cool to talk to that  _ chica, _ too - she really seemed to know her stuff!”

Widowmaker laughed as she rolled her eyes. At the very least, Sombra was amusing. Amusing and warm up against her side. Widowmaker slipped her arm out from Sombra’s elbow and behind her back instead, pulling them a little closer together.

That was better.

 

\---

 

“Having fun,  _ amiga?” _

Widowmaker laughed, and nodded. “Somewhat surprisingly, perhaps, yes.”

Sombra gasped at that, a hand flying to her chest. The other was interlaced with one of Widowmaker’s. “Surprisingly? I might take offence at that!”

“You  _ might _ or you  _ do?” _ Widowmaker looked back with narrowed eyes, but Sombra just grinned and chuckled and pinched her cheek.

“Ahh, you’re too cute to stay mad at,” she grinned wider as Widowmaker recoiled slightly, nose scrunching up like she was smelling something horrid.

_ “Cute?” _ The assassin scoffed, crossing her arms and looking away. “Now it is  _ my _ turn to be offended.”

Sombra laughed as she tugged Widowmaker closer and tried to wrap her up in a hug. “Only getting cuter,  _ amiga!” _

Scoffing again, Widowmaker shoved Sombra away. “Keep your hands to yourself, heathen. I did not come here to be accused of  _ cuteness.” _

“Then you’d better stop being cute.”

Widowmaker glared down at Sombra who only grinned in return. “You are trying to goad me into working, here at the party.” She held out a finger in accusation. “You are trying to get me to break my rule and hurt you!”

“Whaaaaat?” Sombra’s eyes flew wide in feigned ignorance. “I would never do that! I would never ever try to goad you into kicking my ass just so I could lord it over you.”

“You would be lording it six feet  _ under _ me by the time I was finished with you,” Widowmaker murmured darkly under her breath.

“Promise?”

“As well,” Widowmaker continued as if she hadn’t heard Sombra’s teasing interjection, “watch your filthy animal mouth.  _ Derrière _ ,  _ s’il vous plait _ .”

Sombra grinned, closing her eyes and tugging at Widowmaker’s hand as she tipped her head back. “Ooh, say it again.”

Widowmaker held her ground for a moment. Then she sighed briefly, rolled her eyes, and started to lean down - slowly, and with a grin gradually growing on her lips, she brought her head in next to Sombra’s. She moved with deliberate delay, teasing the moment out as long as she could until her lips were right next to the hacker’s ear, and then she opened her mouth, took a breath, and whispered, “No.”

Sombra whined as ripples ran down her spine. “Unfair,  _ amiga! _ Come on, I arranged for this whole thing-”

“Yes, you did,” Widowmaker grinned, “now don’t  _ ruin _ it by being yourself.”

Sombra pouted jokingly. Although, there was maybe a little bit of genuineness behind the gesture - but only because she suspected there was a little bit of the same behind Widowmaker’s words.

She wouldn’t  _ really _ ruin it - she didn’t really ruin  _ everything _ , did she? Of course not. Sure, maybe nothing went according to  _ plan _ , but that didn’t mean it was  _ ruined! _

“Try this one.”

Sombra blinked and glanced down as Widowmaker pressed a glass into her hand. She hadn’t even realized that the sniper had stepped away - she was fast, though. Sombra took a sip, and hummed immediately.

“Oh, I like it - sweet, that’s nice. Not one of those red ones that makes it feel like I’m sucking on a dirty leaf.”

“What elegant phrasing,” Widowmaker muttered as she rolled her eyes. She had to admit, though, that she liked the way eyes drew her way -  _ their _ way, because they really were quite the pair. She stepped in closer to Sombra, shrugging idly. “Many people only enjoy reds with food. The tannins and the fats,” she waved a hand in lieu of a full explanation.

“Hmm,” Sombra shrugged, idly linking arms with Widowmaker again. “Well, thanks, I like it.”

_ “De rien,” _ Widowmaker hummed. She’d thought as much, and it always felt good to be correct about something like that. To have correctly ascertained a person’s likes and likely habits. Perhaps there was more to it, as well - Sombra was not just any person, she was a teammate as well. She thought of herself as a friend.

Widowmaker couldn’t say for certain if she would say the same - she knew there had been a time when she would have said no. She suspected she would  _ still _ say no, but at the same time, she thought that the  _ reasons _ had probably changed.

It felt just the tiniest bit awkward to Sombra, standing there silently, sipping at her wine as Widowmaker did the same - nice, but also a little awkward like she didn’t know what to do next. It was easier when they were teasing.

Still, something always cropped up, and apparently wine went right through her. Sombra glanced around. “Hey, did you catch where the bathroom was?” Widowmaker pointed and Sombra nodded, stepping off that way. “Cool, back in a minute - see ya, cutie!”

She grinned at the heavy sigh she heard as she walked away. There was a lot of wine here today - but everybody else seemed fine, so she was sure she would be too. She knew she could drink most people under the table, and most of the hoity-toity rich folks didn’t exactly seem like  _ heavyweights. _

With that in mind, she decided that she must have been mostly imagining the buzzing in her head and the warmth in her fingers and toes, cheeks and nose. It was just a wine tasting - you couldn’t get drunk at a wine tasting! Everybody said so.

 

\---

 

She was on her way back from the bathroom when she got interrupted.“Would Madame care to try?”

Sombra frowned doubtfully as the man held out a glass of wine that was  _ blue _ . Some cross-genetic breed of grape, according to a little sign. “Why bother crossbreeding? Why not just engineer it?” She took a sip, and it was definitely different from any of the others - she didn’t know all the terms or anything, but it was sharp at first and then trailed off to be almost smokey but not quite. Smokey and fruity, maybe.

She hummed thoughtfully as she swallowed, and took another sip from the glass - they were really small glasses, she’d had to sneak more than one from a few of the tables.

“At Lestrade estates,” the man explained, “we are committed to the old ways - classical practices. Our grapes are hand-picked, hand-selected, hand-pressed; every aspect of the process is carried out at the hands of a knowledgeable and skilled  _ human. _ No machinery.”

She heard the tone in his voice plenty clearly, and snickered softly into her glass. Some dumbasses just had to be dumbasses. Instead of replying vocally, she swept her free hand through the air and projected a little screen displaying a thumbs-up, then drained her glass and changed the screen to be a middle finger.

Laughing, Sombra set down her empty glass and headed back out into the party to try to find Widowmaker. She was having fun here! It wasn’t too surprising, though - everything was more fun with booze.

 

\---

 

Widowmaker stood with a soft smile fixed on her lips, her eyes darting around the crowd - looking at the people, but moreso now, looking at the wines. All the different vineyards, all the different offerings; she hoped to try them all before the day’s end.

There were many, and it would take quite a while. She wondered whether Sombra would be able to cope - while she knew the annoying hacker had a fairly high alcohol tolerance, there was only so much any person could handle, even simply absorbing the alcohol through their tongue.

Any normal human, at least - Widowmaker knew that she was largely an exception. She  _ could _ get drunk, it just was quite difficult; Sombra, however…

...come to think of it, she had looked a  _ little _ wobbly when she’d wandered off toward the bathroom.

Widowmaker’s eyes suddenly had a new target as they flitted around the event - looking for a flash of bright purple hair, those eyes standing out. She listened as well for the trademark laugh, or perhaps a shouted swear or something in Spanish, but there were no indications.

How long ago had she headed to the bathroom?

 

\---

 

“Thanks,” Sombra smiled as she was handed another glass of wine - a white, which she was sure she’d like, so she took a pretty big mouthful to start with as the person turned away to explain something to somebody else for a moment. When they were done, Sombra was finished with her wine already and set the empty glass down.

Widowmaker must have headed off to somewhere else because she wasn’t waiting where Sombra had left her, which had the hacker wandering around trying to spot her tall blue murderess of a girlfriend.

“Hey,” she leaned in, “uh, have you seen…”  _ my girlfriend? No, that’s not right. Probably. I mean, I dunno.  _ “...uh…” Sombra shook her head as she realized she wasn’t talking or making sense. Her tongue felt a little slow, her head definitely light - if she didn’t know better, she’d think she was getting drunk! All these other jerks seemed to be fine, though, so she knew she had to be too.

“Madame?” The server prompted her.

“Yeah,” Sombra cleared her throat, “uh, have you seen a woman - about this tall,” she held up a hand, “red dress that makes you wanna drool, looks like she could murder the whole room with one glance?” The server didn’t respond so Sombra threw out more of Widowmaker’s identifying features. “Uh, she’s French, she likes wine, she’s cold - literally and like, metaphorically, too. I already said tall, uh… great kisser? Kinda bossy?”

The server looked back helplessly.

“Oh!” Sombra laughed briefly, smacking at her forehead. “Also, she’s kinda blue - like, her skin? And she’s got gold eyes. That too.”

“I-” he cleared his throat. “I haven’t- I’m afraid I can’t help with that.”

“Ahh, you don’t gotta be afraid,” Sombra snickered, “I’m not gonna do anything to ya! Thanks,  _ chico, _ ” she chuckled as she picked up another glass of wine and raised it to him. “This is some good stuff, too! I gotta remember this one and get some for myself.”

She took a sip as she looked back out at the crowd - it seemed like they were getting louder, but whatever. She wasn’t going to locate Widowmaker by  _ listening _ for her.

“Okay,” Sombra muttered to herself, draining the glass as she walked and setting it down on a random table she passed by. “If I was a hot French assassin, where would I be?”  She snickered in response to her own question. “Probably just standing naked in front of a mirror and gawping at myself!”

She laughed as she waded out into the crowd.

 

\---

 

Widowmaker’s gaze at some point turned from intent to something much more akin to nervous. Momentarily the idea occurred to her that perhaps Sombra had been intercepted by some other group - Overwatch, or some vengeful cell of Los Muertos - although the latter was highly unlikely and the former would probably have been shooting at her as well.

She hadn’t heard any gunshots, any shouts or screams - no, Sombra was almost certainly still safe.

Just absent.

She had been for almost twenty minutes now, at least.

Widowmaker just milled around idly, trying to look like she was simply taking her time very thoroughly at the three or four tables nearby, but there were only so many offerings open to taste and only so many insightful question that could be asked about the wine. Even  _ she _ was beginning to run out of things to ask and things to say, and she refused to simply stand in place as everything else continued around her.

She couldn’t leave, though, otherwise Sombra might return and be unable to find her.

No, it would be best to stay in place, where she’d been when they parted.

She raised an eyebrow and inquired about other offerings one vineyard might have, and was secretly grateful when the old woman who owned it mentioned a sister meadery. Not because she knew particularly much about mead or particularly wanted to gain access to any, but because it gave a whole new topic of conversation about which to feign interest and waste time doing so.

 

\---

 

Sombra stretched around somebody to grab a glass of wine - the table was crazy crowded, so it must have been good stuff. It didn’t take more than a sip for her to know that it was, in fact, good stuff, so she reached through the crowd and grabbed herself out another glass as well, giggling at her own cleverness as she stepped away.

“More wine for Sombra,” she murmured to herself. For a bunch of stupid rich people, these stupid rich people were being pretty good at handling their liquor. They must’ve just not been enjoying themselves as much as she was, though, that was the only explanation - hell, half of the glasses she saw still had wine in them.

Were people really being that snooty about it that they had a sip and then went “ew, no, I’m not drinking any more of that”? Sombra had even seen a few people  _ spitting out _ their wine, right in front of the people who were offering it!

Even  _ she _ knew that that was rude - far too rude, in her opinion. She’d be doing everyone a favour by cracking the bank accounts of everyone here wide open like fresh coconuts…

Sombra sighed, hanging her head. “No work,” she muttered to herself as a reminder, finishing off one of her glasses off wine and putting the empty glass down on a table.

Still, who spat out wine? Even the bad ones hadn’t been  _ that _ bad - Sombra had had a few wines she’d wanted to spit out previously, but everything here was pretty good. Some of it was really great! Even the worst ones were only frown-worthy, not actually spit-out offensive.

At least, not to her. She grinned, though, at the realization - it just went to show that there was more to class than just dressing up nice. All these people with all their tiny fork manners and shit, and they still didn’t know enough to not spit out their wine at a party!

 

\---

 

Widowmaker’s smile started to grow a little strained as the woman explained what flowers had been planted in the north-northeastern corner of the fields - not as far out as the barn but further out than the pond, in between the row of poplars and the rose bush her grandmother had planted there during the war, and how when the sun rose up over the hill in the morning and the breeze was blowing, and-

She quickly realized that she wasn’t listening anymore. Distractions were fairly uncommon, but this was no mission - and while they weren’t working, Sombra was still a teammate and Widowmaker felt responsible for her safety.

That was all it was. Surely.

Widowmaker excused herself with a smile and looked around one more time - still no Sombra in sight. Sighing, she pulled off her shawl and draped it over a chair. Hopefully, it would be enough of a sign that she meant to return.

Then, she set off into the crowd, intent on finding the annoying latina. If she was safe, Widowmaker would delight in explaining to her just how thoroughly she’d ruined the past hour of the party.

If she wasn’t safe?

Well, Widowmaker had said they weren’t supposed to work here. However, she would gladly make an exception if somebody had hurt Sombra. Gladly, excitedly,  _ delightedly _ make an exception, and show quite clearly that she needed no rifle to carry out her purpose…

 

\---

 

“Hey!” Sombra grabbed at somebody’s elbow. “Hey, hey sorry, but have uh- have you seen a… a blue lady? She’s tall. And hot. Blue. Kills people. Blue? No? Whatcha-” the person tugged their arm free and Sombra frowned. “Prick! See how you like it when I leak all your nudes.”

She snickered for a long time at that - this was a  _ great _ party! The only problem was, she didn’t know where Widowmaker was. It was a pretty big problem, actually, for a bunch of reasons.

“Dammit,” Sombra whined, leaning against a small potted tree and petting at its trunk. “Where’d she go? It’s been so fucking long!” She gasped and a hand flew to her mouth. “Oh,” she muttered through her fingers, “sorry, language and shit. Sorry. Fuck.”

Still no Widowmaker, though. Sombra grabbed a glass of wine to cheer herself up, and chose another direction at random, and started to walk that way.

_ “Chica!” _ She called out as she trudged, grumbling most of the rest of the time. “Where’d you go?”

Then she saw something - that red, just like blood, and she ran forward toward it. There was Widowmaker’s shawl, draped over the back of a chair.

“Wh- this must mean…” Sombra frowned, picking up the piece of fabric and running it through her hands as she tried to piece it together amongst the hazy fog of her brain. 

“This must mean… somebody  _ kidnapped _ her!” Sombra’s eyes widened and she spun around. “I’m coming  _ chica! _ I’m gonna save you from those pricks, I’m gonna-” she faltered as she started to run, regretting how quickly she’d turned around, “I’m gonna throw up.”

Sombra dropped to her knees and shuffled over toward a potted tree nearby, whimpering sadly. She could almost  _ hear _ Widowmaker’s disappointed sigh - like it was right there above her. She wiped away a tear with the shawl. “I’m sorry  _ amiga,”  _ she whispered to the soft fabric. “I’ll come rescue you, I promise. I’m gonna get you back.”

“You… stupid…” Widowmaker couldn’t even come up with a third word. She crouched down next to Sombra’s huddled form and clapped a hand on the hacker’s shoulder.  _ “Where? _ Where have you been? You have been gone for an hour!”

_ “Chica!” _ Sombra looked up, gasped, and leapt forward, wrapping Widowmaker up in a tight hug that almost knocked her over. “Where’d you go? Why’d you leave? Did you kill the guys that kidnapped you? Who was it anyway?”

Widowmaker had a moment of intense, bizarre incomprehension as she at first thought that Sombra was talking about Talon taking her away from her husband, from Gérard, all those years ago, but that didn’t make sense. “What are you talking about?”

“You got  _ kidnapped!” _ Sombra shouted in anguish. “I left you alone and you got kidnapped and then I came back and you were gone!”

“Oh keep your voice down you fool,” Widowmaker hissed, pinching at the bridge of her nose with her eyes screwed shut. “Sombra. I did not  _ move  _ from this spot until five minutes ago - I spent the better part of an hour listening to a woman ramble about  _ flowers _ at her meadery, I- I spent ten minutes talking about cars with an investment banker!” Widowmaker gestured in frustration. “I hate banks! And cars!”

“And then,” Sombra insisted, “and then you got kidnapped! Kidn-napp… Kindn...apped?”

“You’re drunk,” Widowmaker sighed, shaking her head.

“No  _ you’re _ drunk,” Sombra retorted with a giggle, leaning her head against Widowmaker’s shoulder with a groaned sigh.  _ “Chica _ I’m drunk. What the fuck? How come everybody else is totally okay?”

The lingering figments of paranoia suggested a possibility. “Perhaps somebody dosed one of your drinks with something,” Widowmaker murmured thoughtfully. “How many did you taste? Perhaps we could track them down.”

Sombra shrugged. “Idunno. Like… fifty different ones? I dunno. I drank a few glasses of some of ‘em. They were pretty good shit, you know.”

“Hmm,” Widowmaker frowned, “with so many it would be difficult to…” she trailed off as she realized what Sombra had actually  _ said. _ “Wait. Did you say…  _ drank? _ You  _ drank _ them?”

“Well, yeah!” The hacker snorted as her head spun. It didn’t make any sense! She should’ve been way better off than all of these jerks but they were still totally fine, and she was sitting on the ground shitfaced trying to hold back her lunch. “How else am I supposed to try ‘em?”

“It-” Widowmaker grunted, pressing a hand flat to her face. “You-” she started again, but couldn’t finish the sentence and sighed sharply instead. “You  _ animal, _ you fool, you - you don’t  _ drink _ the wine, you sip it and then you  _ spit it out!” _ Widowmaker hissed frantically, grabbing at Sombra’s shoulders,  _ “Otherwise, _ you get  _ drunk!” _

Sombra looked back to her in confusion at first, a frown slowly deepening on her face before it was lifted by a dawning grin of comprehension. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” She laughed. “Oh, oh that’s why everybody was spitting out their wine! I just thought they were all rude! Oh, okay - so I’m  _ not _ a lightweight!”

“Sombra I am going to murder you as soon as we are out of here,” Widowmaker muttered through gritted teeth. “You  _ imbecile _ I should have known better than to let myself be seen in public with you, I-”

_ “Chica,  _ I-”

“No  _ shut up,” _ Widowmaker hissed, not letting her interject, “this was  _ your _ idea to begin with and you couldn’t even develop the  _ slightest _ idea of how to comport yourself - you  _ always _ do this, you form half a plan and leap in before doing the barest amount of-”

_ “Chica,” _ Sombra whined, “I really gotta-”

“Shut up! I knew this would be a mistake - I knew it would, I said it the whole time, and the worst - the  _ worst _ part was that I was actually  _ enjoying _ myself because I’d decided you could be trusted. Yes, there it is: I had decided this was going to be worthwhile and I had raised my expectations and yet, still, ha!” Widowmaker raised her hands and let them clap down against her legs, “Yet still you shatter my expectations! Well, congratulations, Sombra - at the very least I can say you never fail to surprise me.”

_ “Amiga,”  _ Sombra groaned, leaning forward. “I really don’t feel so-”

Then, she turned away and vomited into a potted tree.

Sombra collapsed forward against the large terracotta pot, convulsing a little. Widowmaker’s hands found her shoulders, one catching Sombra’s long (and thankfully un-dirtied) hair and holding it back as another wave of putrescense spewed forth and Widowmaker couldn’t do anything about it except to frown.

“I’m sorry,” Sombra  moaned, half-sobbing. “I’m so sorry  _ chica, _ I fucked this all up, I ruined it. I didn’t know, I’m sorry, I-” she paused to retch emptily and then coughed. “Ugh, I’m a fucking disgrace, I’m sorry, you deserve better.”

“Sombra,” Widowmaker sighed, shuffling a little closer. She was on her knees now, probably ruining the fabric of the dress against the ground, but she didn’t care. She stroked at Sombra's sweat-lined brow with a cold finger.

The hacker retched again, waving a hand at her. “No seriously, I- fuck, I mean it, I mean come on. Go- go have fun without me, okay? Just leave me here to suffer like I deserve and go have a good time, and come get me in a couple hours, alright? Really, I mean it. This was supposed to be a thing for you and I fucked it up, so just like… go enjoy your gift, okay? Enjoy your party. I got it for you.”

Widowmaker glanced away, back to the party - there were dozens of tables she hadn’t visited yet, dozens that she wanted to. Over there a tantalizing selection of reds from a vineyard she’d not tasted in years, and couldn’t help but wonder what new things they’d come up with. Off to that side a few whites, one of which she remembered as being particularly good.

She had been planning on watching Sombra quite closely as she drank it, suspecting that the hacker's eyes might light up with surprised joy.

Sombra retched again and Widowmaker sighed, leaning forward and laying her head against the hacker’s back.  _ “Non. _ No, let us get you home, get you clean, get you into bed.”

“No c’mon  _ amiga,” _ Sombra protested weakly, pausing to spit into the dirt. “You gotta go enjoy yourself.”

“I do not think I could, with you in this state,” Widowmaker murmured softly. She squeezed at Sombra’s shoulders. “I am saying this only because I know you will not recall it tomorrow. Earlier, when you did not return, I thought you had been hurt or captured and it worried me. You worry me, and… it is beyond simple concern for a teammate.”

Sombra’s body shook with a convulsion but nothing came out, which was a good sign for their ability to travel, at least. It also meant she had to remain silent, which gave Widowmaker a good opportunity to continue.

“At Talon, I am treated many ways by many people. Reaper treats me with respect, for my skills and abilities, and perhaps even a sort of reverence at times; I return that. Doomfist treats me with cordiality and perhaps academic interest; I return that. The Council treats me with fear; I return that, each of us living in concern over mutually assured destruction. You though, Sombra…”

Widowmaker sighed as the other woman shook again. “You were the first - the only - to treat me with kindness. With personal interest. Not just for what I could do, but for who I  _ was _ . I will do my best to pay this back. To return it in kind.”

Sombra shuddered, spat again, and then turned to fix her with a weak smile. “That’s- that’s the sweetest shit I’ve ever heard,  _ chica! _ Like, usually you’re just talking about how you want to shoot me and stuff!”

_ “Oui,” _ Widowmaker shrugged, “and I will continue to,” she smirked, “but I say it with care. Now, come, let us get you home - and do not worry over this event, anyway. It was… pleasant, it was quaint, but I suspect that pleasantness largely your doing anyway. The event itself was somewhat…  _ bourgeois.” _

“Doesn’t that mean fancy?” Sombra groaned as Widowmaker pulled her upright.

Widowmaker laughed, fully and brightly, shaking her head. “Ah, you foolish thing - you have  _ so much _ yet to learn. Fancy to some, I suppose,” she grinned, “to the commoners - but you and I? We are anything but common.”

“Okay now you’re definitely flirting with me,” Sombra muttered weakly as she tried to walk, supporting herself heavily on Widowmaker’s arm.

“Hardly,” the sniper retorted with a smirk. “I have not even mentioned killing you yet.”

 

\---

 

The morning came with chirping birds, and bright sunshine, and a whole bunch of other things that Sombra did  _ not _ want with the splitting headache and roiling in her gut.

She groaned as she wiped at her sweat-lined forehead and tried to roll away from the sunlight, but  _ that _ was a mistake because it made her gut lurch and she reached out instinctively - her hand caught a bucket there and pulled it to her mouth, but it was only dry heaving anyway.

“I thought as much.”

Sombra recognized the voice - and the tone, too. She knew even before she looked up that Widowmaker would be standing there with her arms crossed, frowning slightly.

She looked up.

Widowmaker was standing there with her arms crossed, frowning slightly.

Sombra chuckled weakly. “Hey,  _ chica. _ Fancy bumping into you here!”

“In my own bedroom?” Widowmaker raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to speak again, but Sombra cut her off.

“Okay look, before you say anything, I’m really sorry about yesterday. I dunno what the fuck happened, but I got really drunk-”

“I recall, yes.”

“-and then…” Sombra frowned. “Okay, and then I don’t remember what happened, but I’m pretty sure I need to be sorry about it.”

Widowmaker sighed and approached, rolling her eyes. She sat gently on the edge of the bed, laying a hand on Sombra’s shoulder. “You left to go to the toilet. You were gone for over an hour. When I found you again you had fallen over, thinking I was kidnapped. I politely explained that one is not meant to  _ drink _ the wine at a tasting, it is-”

“Ohhhh,” Sombra sighed, chuckling.  _ “That’s _ why everybody was spitting it out! I didn’t think it tasted  _ that _ bad.”

“Mmm, quite,” Widowmaker muttered dryly. “Then you began to throw up in the bushes. All over my shawl, as well, I might add.”

“Ah, shit.” Sombra groaned and laid back against the pillow, trying to will away the lurching sickness in her gut. There was a glass of water on the side table - Widowmaker grabbed it and held it out to her, and Sombra slowly propped herself up in the bed until she could take it and have a sip, head spinning.

“I’m really sorry,  _ chica,” _ Sombra muttered, looking at the glass rather than the irate assassin. “I wanted to do something nice for you and shit, and uh…” she chuckled, “well, I guess I fucked that up too. Sorry. Uh… what happened after I started throwing up?”

Widowmaker shrugged idly. “I held your hair. I patted your back. I ensured you were not quite stupid enough to choke on your own upheavals. I ensured you were safe, and then…”

She trailed off for a moment, but not a long one. She’d had plenty of time to think while Sombra was unconscious. “Then I left you there to suffer - as you deserved - and returned to the event to enjoy myself. I checked in on you between tastings, and a few hours later I returned to you and we left the party.”

“Oh, good,” Sombra sighed with a grin, her relief practically palpable in her voice. “That’s really good to hear,  _ chica, _ cool. Thanks.” It was good to hear she hadn’t ruined the whole night - good to know that, despite her own fuck-ups, Widowmaker had still been able to have some fun like she deserved.

Sombra could see it sometimes. Widowmaker had fun, sure - she enjoyed the shooting range or carrying out missions - but there was more to life than that and Sombra felt a deep need to help open her eyes to that fact. Maybe because she was scared about ending up in the same place herself. Maybe just because she thought Widowmaker deserved better.

She was really glad she hadn’t ruined the whole outing.

_ “De rien,”  _ Widowmaker shrugged. “We then came here, showered, and then I made you promise to take me to another tasting in three weeks. My favourite vineyard is having an exclusive event - I had secured an invitation but it would be poor form to show up without a guest. It can be your repayment for you poor behaviour at this last one.”

Sombra laughed, eyes closed, blindly putting down the glass on the side table and pulling Widowmaker toward her, holding her head in close and running fingers through her long, silky, and still slightly damp hair. “Damn,  _ amiga _ , if that’s what I get I should maybe fuck up more often!”

Widowmaker chuckled, pushing herself up to purr in Sombra’s ear. “Ruin this  _ next _ event, and I will strangle you with my own silk-gloved hands, Sombra.  _ Slowly.” _

“Promise?” Sombra grinned, giggling slightly. “And hey, stop flirting, it’s mean when my stomach’s all shitty like this. Plus you’re all cold.” She reached over and pulled down the blankets, patting at the bed. “C’mon, get in, warm up. Think I’ll need another shower in a bit, but I gotta relax a minute first.”

“Oh, of course, treat this as your own home,” Widowmaker murmured sarcastically, disrobing as she stepped around to the other side of the bed.

_ “Su casa es mi casa, _ ” Sombra quipped, pulling the chilly killer in close and wrapping the blankets overtop of them. She tugged Widowmaker’s arm across her belly lightly - the cold helped to quiet down the nausea a little. Plus, it just felt nice.

It all did, really. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hey,  _ amiga?” _

_ “Oui?” _

“I’m glad you went back to the party.”

Widowmaker laughed briefly. “But of course! What, would you expect me to spend the whole time holding your hair back, or departing to return straight home?  _ Non, _ it was my gift and I thought it fair to enjoy it as I saw fit.”

“Good,” Sombra chuckled, “that’s good. I’m really glad I didn’t ruin it.”

Widowmaker hummed softly. The truth - the full truth - could be a secret only she held, as so many others were. There was at least one thing she could say about it that  _ was _ true, however.

_ “Non,” _ she murmured softly, raising her leg to lay across Sombra’s belly as well, soaking in the warmth. “You did not ruin it. Not  _ entirely.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations!  
>  _"Merci, et de rien"_ == "Thank you, and you're welcome" loosely. Literally, "Thank you, and it's nothing" in the form of "it's nothing/no problem/don't worry about it, etc."  
>  _"Derrière, s'il vous plait"_ == Technically "Behind, please" but realistically it's the "s'il vous plait/please" that Widdy's stressing  
>  _"Bourgeois"_ == "Middle class"
> 
>  
> 
> I like these two together, really a lot. Not necessarily the most ideally healthy relationship for normal people, I guess, but they're not exactly normal, are they? Like I said in the pre-note, this is a continuation of ONotJ and WH, and I actually have a lot more planned for them too. So uh... yeah, you can bug me about that XD If people are so inclined to ask, I might write the follow-up wine tasting, too! Don't currently have any specific ideas, but ideas can always be developed, heh.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed it, folks! Come on back tomorrow for more goodness!


	12. Bikers Do Laundry Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela just needed to borrow some detergent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure about the title, but it made me laugh. This went from motorcycle Fareeha to laundromat fluff real quick. But, I love it, and i was the one who suggested the motorcycle prompt in the first place so...wh'ever.

Angela never really minded doing her laundry. She would throw it in the washer, resume her daily activities and then toss it into the dryer when she remembered she was doing laundry. She liked to wait until she had to wash a lot before she actually did any of it though.

The routine worked for her. At least, it did until her washer broke. She still remembered the huge ass puddle of water she almost slipped on when she entered the laundry room to investigate the odd buzzing sound coming from her washer. She should have known a four-year warranty on a washer was suspicious. Here it was, year five, broken. The lump sum of cash she saved on the cheap washer was pointless now that she had to get a decent one.

Now she was forced to load up her laundry and pack it into her car so she could bring it to a laundromat she’d found. She had put off her laundry as long as possible in the hopes that her new washer would arrive before she had to wash clothes, with only two pairs of underwear left, Angela should have known better.

She found a parking spot nearby and made the short trek to the laundromat, a bag of laundry in each hand. She lugged them inside and found a few washers free. She piled her laundry from one bag inside one and fought with the door to close it. She may, or may not, have received some odd looks of interest from the other people there.

A little embarrassed, she removed some clothes and put them into a different washer and filled the rest with half of the other bag. The rest she had to throw into a third one. Angela thought about washing only what she needed, but she had no idea how long she would go without a washer.

She muttered to herself as she made sure the doors were closed. Then she looked around nearby for some detergent.

_Oh shit._

She’d forgotten to bring detergent and softener. Angela wanted to cry. She’d already put her laundry into the washers while everyone watched, now was she going to have to take them out while they silently laughed at her? Angela was entertaining just leaving the dirty clothes there and buying an entire new wardrobe.

She surveyed the room and chose the nicest looking person to approach. “Excuse me?”

The woman turned around with a warm smile. “Yes, honey?”

Angela took a quick steadying breath, “Could I borrow some of your detergent?”

The change from pleasant to suspicious was almost instantaneous. “You think I’m gonna just let you use _my_ detergent? What about me? What about _my_ clothes?”

Angela immediately took a step back and raised her hands placatingly, “I’m sorry, I just forgot and figured I would ask. Sorry!”

Angela quickly returned to her group of three washers and decided to pick someone else to ask. She’d give it one more chance before she just left and went shopping for a few hours.

Something loud roared just outside of the laundromat. Angela’s eyes inadvertently snapped to the source. A motorcycle nestled snugly between the cars parked along the street. A long-legged figure gracefully swung one of their legs over the seat and stood smoothly. Their helmet came off to reveal a goddess. No. Just an incredibly beautiful woman. Her sleek, black hair cascaded down and almost melted into her black windbreaker. She wore a pair of tight jeans that showed how muscled her legs were, and Angela felt her mouth water.

Angela was so busy ogling the woman, that she didn’t notice what the other was doing until she was walking into the laundromat. She had a worn looking laundry bag tucked under her arm effortlessly and a container of detergent and softener dangling from her other hand.

Angela reminded herself to breathe before she passed out, and took a few moments to calm her racing heart. The blonde hesitantly approached the other. She waited until the washer door was closed before she spoke.

“Um, excuse me?”

The woman turned around, startled, before she gave a bright smile. “Yes?”

Angela swallowed nervously, surely someone so perfect could understand why she was such a failure?

“Do you think I could borrow some of your detergent?”

“Do you plan on giving it back?”

Angela froze, was she going to be denied once more? “What?” she winced at the squeak in her voice.

The woman’s eyes widened. “Relax, I was just trying to make a joke. Guess it wasn’t very funny?” She laughed nervously, and Angela felt relieved once more.

“So…I _can_ use some of your detergent?”

“Of course!”

Angela could hear the other woman scoff at the display. The beautiful woman in front of her leaned down, “Don’t worry about Dorris. She’s nice enough, she’s just been taken advantage of so much that she gets really nasty when people ask her for things now.”

Angela turned back to the older woman with new eyes and saw a tired, scruffy looking lady, her hair greying at the roots with signs of previous attempts to dye it back to its original color. Angela felt a little guilty for upsetting her.

When Angela turned back, she found the detergent container being offered to her. When she accepted it with a smile, the other introduced herself. “Name’s Fareeha.”

“Angela.”

For some reason, her name made the other laugh.

“What?” the blonde asked, slightly miffed.

“Nothing, your name is perfect.” Fareeha gave her a warm smile. “It suits you.”

Angela blushed before nodding her thanks and wandering off to her set of three washers.

She poured the minimum amount needed in each before starting them and returning the detergent to Fareeha.

“Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

The two of them shuffled nervously for a long moment before they both spoke.

“Well, I guess I should be heading back to my washers.”

“You wanna go grab some coffee or something?”

They both paused before asking simultaneously, “What did you say?”

A beat passed before they were both giggling at each other.

Fareeha spoke first this time as she raised her hand. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Angela shook her head, “No, _you_ were saying something first.”

“Angela, please. Just say your thing first.” Fareeha offered pleasantly.

Angela shook her head and crossed her arms. She remained silent until Fareeha spoke first.

After a sigh, Fareeha smiled. “I was just wondering if you wanted to go and grab some coffee while we waited.”

Angela stepped back, scandalized. “And leave our clothes here?”

Fareeha shrugged. “I think if anyone wanted to steal our clothes, they must have needed them more than us. Right?”

Angela’s brow wrinkled with indecision. “I don’t know.”

“My treat?”

Angela was a sucker for free things. “Fine.”

As they exited, Fareeha held open the door for her and asked what she had wanted to say. Angela shook her head and answered that it didn’t matter anymore. Fareeha raised an eyebrow, but didn’t make any further comment.

The two of them wandered around town until they found a little café. They ordered a coffee and sat in a booth that let them look out into the street.

“I really do appreciate all of this, Fareeha.”

“It was no trouble. Though, if you wanted to pay me back, there is one thing I’m interested in. But, I mean… you don’t have to. I just did this to be nice. But it would also be nice if you gave me what I wanted, but just know that you don’t have to. I-“ Fareeha continued to babble until Angela’s head began to spin.

“Fareeha.” Angela interrupted with a laugh. “What is it?”

“Could I get your phone number?”

Angela almost spit out her coffee and ruined her chances with this benevolent spirit. For surely, there was no way that she was asking for Angela’s number because she was interested in her. Right?

“My number?” Angela felt like she was speaking through a tunnel. Was this really happening?

“Yes.” Angela wasn’t sure if Fareeha was answering her verbal question or her mental one.

“I…why?”

Fareeha’s face was beginning to darken as she blushed, and Angela, who thought that the other couldn’t get any more beautiful, was proven wrong.

“I…was hoping to get to know you better and…maybe…I don’t know...go out on a date?”

Angela was never more glad that she carried around a pen than she was in this moment. She quickly pulled the cap off of her fancy pen and wrote down her contact info on a napkin. Phone number, preferred email address, and the word “ _Yes!_ ” in her semi neat handwriting.

Fareeha accepted the information and when she read Angela’s response she grinned so wide, it must have hurt her cheeks.

They chatted and got to know more about one another for another half hour before they made their way to the laundromat again. Angela was relieved that all of her clothes were still present, and even more relieved that they were all clean.

She pulled out her bag and was about to put the clothes back inside before she noticed Fareeha tossing her clothes into a dryer. She bit her lip as she tried to make a decision on her next move. Against her better judgement, she decided to take a chance on Fareeha.

Angela called out to get Fareeha’s attention. When the taller woman stood, Angela asked, “You want to dry your stuff at my place?”

Fareeha’s eyes widened before they narrowed slightly in thought. It was a long moment before Fareeha finally made her choice. “Sounds like a plan.”


	13. A Successful Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Dliessmgg  
> Prompt: clumsy  
> Ship: Junkrat/explosives

“Let’s have some fun!”  
Junkrat hollers  
As he juggles his bombs.   
“You want more treasure,  
I have new fireworks,  
So let’s blow things up!”

Boom! goes the wall  
And the bank is open  
Or it would be  
But the wall crumbled.  
“No, not another.”  
Roadhog grumbles  
As he clears the rubble.

Boom! goes the vault  
And the bills flutter  
Like doves, scattered  
By a trampling child.  
“Grab the gold.”  
Roadhog grumbles  
As he fills the bags.

Boom! goes the car  
Ready to drive off  
And the police scatters  
Behind their own.  
“Come this way.”  
Roadhog grumbles  
As he drags Junkrat along.

Boom! they go flying  
Across the bridgeless river  
And the straps rip,  
Dropping the gold in the waves.  
“...”  
Roadhog grumbles  
As he gets back on his feet.

“Well, that was fun!”  
Junkrat hollers  
As he juggles his bombs.  
“And we learned today:  
We always had problems  
When we didn’t blow it up more.”


	14. Cheesy Pickup Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena has words. All kinds of words. Emily has dimples. Dimples > words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one from me, Jrade - fits in with the BSN (Both Sides Now) universe if you're curious, but is set in the past of that story, so... yeah! Short thingy, short and sweet, I hope :D Enjoy!

Lena took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This old man was trying to kill her. He was intentionally taking  _ forever _ with these coupons because he wanted her to die.

One foot started to tap, restlessly, as she crossed her arms. She’d already read every headline on the tabloids and tried to come up with silly rhymes for every pack of gum on the little rack behind the conveyor belt (her personal favourite was Cheermint).

The man moved, at least - forward a bit to lean around the counter and tap one of his fingers at the screen for  _ some _ reason - and Lena took the half a step forward that it afforded her with a sigh because it felt like  _ some _ progress at least.

The sigh abruptly ended, catching between her teeth as her jaw clamped shut and she swore she felt the Chronal Accelerator skip a cycle beneath her leather jacket. She wasn’t in her full gear right now, obviously, but she still needed that harness; it was just buried beneath a leather half-trenchcoat.

Not that she was thinking about her outfit, except then she was suddenly and  _ intensely _ thinking about her outfit, because that was the instant she realized that one of the hottest women she’d ever been lucky enough to see, was behind the cash register.

The redhead leaned forward, waving a delicate hand and smiling softly as she attempted to communicate to the old man for the twentieth time that his coupon for a different chain of grocery stores couldn’t be accepted here. The freckles on her cheeks stood out in the fluorescent light as she nodded, coppery hair cascading over her shoulders as she took his cash card; Lena couldn’t help but watch the way she moved as she turned and waved goodbye to the departing customer, and then as the woman turned back and met her eyes with a smile, Lena thought she might just melt into the ground.

It was such a perfect moment. They were so clearly meant to be together - Lena could see it in her eyes. One of her ginger eyebrows raised a little, and Lena quirked one in return, smirking a little lopsidedly, the cashier laughed lightly and waved. Lena waved back.

Then, realized that the cashier wasn’t just waving, she was waving her  _ forward _ to pay for her things because Lena was now the first person in line.

Her eyes widened a little as she stepped forward and started patting at her jacket, trying to find her wallet. “Ha, sorry, I uh-”  _ how did I not already have it in my hands I was waiting for eight years while he-  _ “-just got to get my um, uh,” Lena cut off into a nervous laugh.

The cashier joined in, her own laugh bright and full as she tossed her head back and the sound leapt right into Lena’s heart. The cashier grinned widely, teeth and eyes sparkling and separated only by those gorgeous freckles. “You’ve got a goofy smile,” the redhead grinned, “and a cute laugh. Don’t worry love, take your time - we’re in no rush here!”

Another slightly less nervous laugh bubbled out of Lena’s lips, and she managed to find her wallet in just that moment. With the joke, with the laugh, it felt a lot less awkward and she got to just enjoy the radiant beauty across from her.

It didn’t seem like she recognized her, and that meant a lot in either direction; some people  _ loved _ the media personality that had been made of “Tracer” and some people hated her, and Lena did her best to avoid comparisons for the most part. She pulled on hats or wore different clothes, sometimes even wore coloured contacts or sprayed her hair a different shade, and sometimes it was enough. Some people saw through it though, and even when she was just trying to be Lena, all they saw was Tracer.

It wasn’t an awful thing. It wasn’t even usually  _ that _ bad a thing, but it also could cause problems. At the very least it tended to derail things.

“So, come here often?” Lena rested her elbows on the little plank that was provided for people to write cheques - as if  _ anybody _ still used cheques - and was rewarded with a bright laugh from the redhead.

“Mm, every now and again,” she smirked, swiping a tin of beans through the scanner and showing off just the slightest hint of a dimple in her cheeks. Lena thought maybe she was imagining it - maybe she was imagining all of it, but there was only one way to know for sure.

_ What’s the worst that could happen? _ Lena felt a little anxiety rising in her gullet.  _ She laughs? That wouldn’t be so bad - she’s got a nice laugh! No, the worst thing that would happen would be… bad. Bad things. But it probably won’t. You’re great. She’s way, way out of your league and you’ve got no chance in hell. _

_ If you’re gonna go out… at least go out big. _

“Sooo,” she shrugged slowly, taking a deep breath to steady her rushing heart. She tipped her head to the side and glanced at the cashier’s name, “Emily - nice name! Anyway, I was wondering, do you ever get hungry?”

Emily looked up in soft confusion, head tipped to the side, eyebrow raised, slightly crooked grin that lit up her whole face and Lena couldn’t help but return. “Hungry? Yeah, um,” she laughed briefly, “sometimes? Why?”

“Great!” Lena patted her hands on the little cheque-plank with a broad and triumphant grin. “In that case, you should let me take you out to dinner and  _ I _ can return the favour by checking  _ you _ out!” She threw in a wink  and a finger-gun as she held out her card, timing it for the last item - a six-pack of dinner rolls - being scanned.

There was a beat of total silence, Emily staring back into her eyes and holding the bag of buns before bursting into laughter violent enough that she had to support herself on the register. “Did- did you-” she could barely speak through the laughter, “did you  _ really _ just say that?”

Lena cleared her throat, looking down at herself and shrugging. “Well, I’ve still got my trousers on so this can’t be that awful nightmare I have sometimes,” she chuckled and flashed the cutest cashier she’d ever met another broad and shameless grin, “and I’m still wearing my shirt so it can’t be that lovely dream I have sometimes, either, so yeah I must’ve really said it!”

Emily covered her mouth with a hand, laughing hard enough that a tear or two glistened on her freckled cheeks - she snorted with laughter, barely able to breathe, and Lena only grinned wider and wider as she did.

_ If you’re gonna go out, at least go out big! _ No point jumping in unless you were going to jump in with both feet.

After a moment or two, Emily got herself under control, giggling and waving a hand to forestall any further comments. “S-sorry! Sorry, I just-” she took a breath and sighed half of it out, chuckling again. “That- that sounds absolutely lovely, yeah!”

Lena’s eyes widened. “Wait. That  _ worked?” _

Emily took her card with a smirk and swiped it past the reader. “That and your smile and your laugh, yeah. I’d been wondering if I could ask out a customer ever since I saw you get in line! Not exactly good form, you know.”

“Pfft,” Lena waved a hand dismissively, “your form’s great! I mean, not that I was looking, but I did kinda look.” She cleared her throat as a little heat rose to her cheeks and carried on talking over Emily’s slight giggle. “Anyway, what time d’you get off?”

“Between seven and seven-thirty, every night,” the redhead nodded, handing Lena’s card back - and the way her fingers brushed against Lena’s hand couldn’t have been accidental. She couldn’t have imagined that, or the way that Emily’s eyes narrowed a little bit, her smile shifted. “Like clockwork. But my shift ends at five.”

Lena stared back into those gorgeous eyes and was pretty sure her heart had forgotten how to beat, and words were really hard sometimes, but Emily had just said several and they slowly filtered through Lena’s brain.

As she realized what Emily had said, she  _ also _ realized that they were still making eye contact and still touching hands, and her cheeks burned with a sudden and furious blush. “Wh-m, nuuh? Imnuh uh-” she cleared her throat as Emily giggled delightedly.

“You’re cute when you blush,” she winked and handed over the bag of groceries. “So I’ll see you at five, yeah?”

“To hell with that, I am never leaving this grocery again,” Lena gushed through a grin and was rewarded once again with a bright laugh.

Unseen and unheard in line behind her, two old women muttered softly to each other.

“Think it’s a bloody waste of time I do, Agnes,” one grumbled.

“Oh hush,” Agnes retorted with a soft and husky laugh, tapping the first on the nose with a hand that trembled slightly. “You remember what it was like being young!”

“I didn’t hold up lines at the grocery,” the first old lady (Aisling) muttered. “I’ll tell you that - never in my life did I-”

“Aisling,” Agnes hummed, patting her partner on the hand, “dear, when you proposed, you shut down Leicester square  _ for an hour. _ ”

“Was already shut down,” Aisling retorted with a huff, crossing her arms. “Traffic’s a bloody state, it is, and I’ll tell you another thing-”

“Of course dear but let’s pay for our groceries first.” Agnes waved a shaky hand as the chipper young girl exited the store, leaving the now-giggly redheaded cashier to turn her attention toward them.

“Sorry about that delay,” Emily smiled, shaking her head a little, “I hope it wasn’t too inconvenient?”

“Of course not, dearie,” Agnes reassured her with a pat on the hand which brightened Emily’s smile by a degree or two.

“Don’t see the bloody fuss anyway,” Aisling grumbled, arms still crossed. Agnes sighed, rolled her eyes, and reached over, lifting the glasses that hung by a cord from the other woman’s neck and resting them gently on the bridge of her nose.

Aisling frowned, readjusted the glasses which sat askew, leaned forward, peered and Emily, and then huffed. “Oh. Fine. So she’s cute.”

“Yes she is, dear,” Agnes laughed lightly to her partner as Emily giggled.  _ “That’s _ what the fuss is about. Now,” Agnes turned back to Emily with a smile, drawing a leaflet out of her handbag, “I have a few coupons here…”

 

\---

 

Outside of the grocery store, Lena sat, slumped to the ground, grinning up at the sky like a total idiot. Largely because she felt entirely  _ like _ a total idiot, but she didn’t care in the slightest. She was a total idiot whose total idiocy had earned her a totally unexpected date with a totally cute redhead, and life was excellent.

She let out a laugh at the bright sky and checked her watch. 3:57. She had plenty of time to zip home. Five o’clock couldn’t roll around soon enough...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh the classic "when do you get off" "oh-ho-ho wouldn't you like to know *wink winky wink*" XD
> 
> Anyway, I thought this was fun. For those curious, this is the first meeting of Tracer and Emily for my story Both Sides Now (yeah I just decided that but hey, it fits in with a thing Tracer said in Chapter Two, so we're good).
> 
> Hope you liked it, folks! Come back tomorrow for something else great :D


	15. First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, another one written by me, TheSoundOfThunderstorms. The prompt is 'First Kiss' and the pairing is Spiderbyte. Hope you enjoy :)

“No.”

“Aw, come on. Just a small one.” Sombra pouted at the answer. Of course, even though she was fully expecting that reply, it was still disappointing to hear.

“I am not kissing the burn on your hand better.” Widowmaker reached into her thigh pouch and pulled out the small first-aid kit she had. It was the something the hacker always forgot to bring on assignments. Taking out the disinfectant spray, she grabbed Sombra’s injured hand and sprayed it. 

“Ow, ow.” Somehow, the spray hurt more than the arduous task of picking out bits of her melted glove from the charred mess of her burned palm. A kiss would have definitely hurt less. She clenched her jaw and yanked her hand back, holding her wrist up to her chest in an effort to somehow alleviate the pain.

“Let’s go.” They had been standing by the smoky remnants of the building they just blew up for far longer than she would have liked. Satisfied that her partner wasn’t at risk of infection, she shoved the first aid kit back in her thigh pouch and started towards the extraction point.

Sombra looked back at the work they’d done. The warehouse was burning brightly, the flames lighting up the cover of the night. She started walking when sirens rang in the distance, cursing every few steps when she’d accidentally close her palm.

When they boarded the dropship, the pain hadn’t gotten any better. By all means, Sombra was tired. And she would have loved to pass out on one of the ‘comfortable’ seats. The burning in her palm took that option away from her. So, she just sat there in misery, sucking in breaths between her teeth as she held onto her wrist with a death grip.

Sombra nearly jumped out of her seat when her partner’s cold fingers touched her wrist, pulling it into her lap. “What are you…doing.” The question seemed pointless now that she could clearly see the roll of bandages nestled between them.

Widowmaker made precise cuts in the remnants of Sombra’s glove with the scissors found in the ship’s first aid kit. “So you’ll stop complaining.” She reached for the roll of bandages when the rest of the singed glove fell to the floor.

“I didn’t even say anything.” Sombra wiggled her fingers at the loss of her glove. The shiny red skin and blisters covering her palm were only made more apparent when her hand was fully exposed. She took a sharp inhale of breath the moment the bandages touched her palm.

“You were groaning the whole time.” She was quick in wrapping the hand, making sure the bandages were pulled taught but weren’t too tight.

“Oh.” Sombra watched with attentive eyes as Widowmaker tied off the ends of the bandages. The whole situation was a mystery to her. Widowmaker didn’t do first aid. She was more likely to drag her injured partner back to the extraction point, something Sombra had experienced twice before, than to even think about treating a wound that wasn’t even hers. Mystery as it was, she wasn’t about to question it.

And then there was the intensity of it all. The sniper had treated the simple task of wrapping up her hand like it was another assignment. Close attention to detail, efficient, and executed flawlessly. She was positive the medics back at base couldn’t do a better job. Sombra couldn’t help the smile that slipped out when she saw Widowmaker’s eyebrows knitted together in concentration. It didn’t matter that the deadliest woman she’s even know was sitting right beside her, she found the look cute.

“You’re staring.” She dropped Sombra’s wrist, pointedly staring right back at the hacker.

“Sorry, it’s just…” Was it a good idea to say what was on her mind? Maybe not, but it wasn’t like her to not voice her thoughts. “I thought you looked cute. The way your eyebrows scrunched up so seriously even though you were just patching me up.”

“Cute.”

A shrug. “Yeah, cute.”

Widowmaker averted her gaze to her abandoned seat on the opposite side. She was only halfway done putting her rifle away when she went to stop the incessant groaning coming from her partner. The one thing she did not expect was to be called cute for her efforts. It was perplexing. But since it was coming from Sombra, maybe it shouldn’t have been.

A small frown overtook her lips as she watched Widowmaker leave the spot beside her without another word. Did I piss her off? Sombra shrugged it off and tried to focus on making herself comfortable. The pain in her hand had dulled considerably, to the point where Sombra felt like she didn’t need to groan away the pain. So, she stretched out onto the next three seats and closed her eyes.

Before falling asleep, Sombra briefly opened her eyes again, catching a golden pair locked with hers for the smallest of moments.

-

It was early in the morning. The sun hadn’t even come out yet but Widowmaker was already up, an empty plate of breakfast sitting in front of her as she scrolled through her assignment details again. She was set to leave in an hour by herself.

The smell of coffee permeated throughout the room. Widowmaker ignored it. She was nearly at the end of the report when a cup was placed in front of her. She could see a bandaged hand from the corner of her eye. Sombra.

She put her holopad down to look at the cup of coffee. “You’re up early.” It was a rare sight to even see Sombra if she didn’t have an assignment. She was usually sleeping in or back in Mexico.

Sombra shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep when I rolled over and hit my hand on the bedpost.” She pointed to the bandaged palm. “Still hurts.”

The coffee had a nice aroma. Widowmaker picked up the cup and took a tentative sip, continuing to drink it when she found it was good. Over the rim of the mug, she could see the hacker trying her best to stay awake. Droopy eyelids fluttered open and shut as the other woman held onto her coffee. Widowmaker kept a close eye on the cup, suspecting that it was going to end up dropped on the table with its contents spilling to the ground.

Sombra was always a disruption. She was constantly up to something. Whether it be stopping her in the hallway to say whatever it was that popped into her mind or severely downplaying the importance of the assignment they were on to complain about the weather. Sombra was always playing around but, Widowmaker had noticed this long ago, she was the only one that did. There was always a numbed sensation that came with the woman’s presence. Widowmaker couldn’t make heads or tails on what that meant, just that she didn’t mind as much as she let on.

She must have been distracted by her thoughts because Sombra had indeed spilled her coffee all over the table. The hacker was peacefully snoozing in her chair, blissfully unaware of the mess she made. And there it was, another disruption.

“Sombra.” Widowmaker stood up from her chair before the coffee could make its way into her lap. “Sombra.” Still nothing. She sighed on the way to the other side of the table.

It was like a block of ice was pressed against her arm. Sombra immediately flinched away from the source of contact, finding herself on the floor in a dazed state a moment later. “Ow, ow, ow.” Her burned palm was on fire, it was the one to break her fall. “What the hell happened?” She blinked when something splattered on her face. It smelled like coffee.

“You fell asleep and spilled your coffee everywhere.”

“Oh.” Sombra felt like she was saying that word a lot lately. Truth be told, besides the impromptu wake up, she still felt extremely tired. Which was odd. The whole reason she was there in the first place was that she couldn’t sleep.

Droplets of coffee started to spill on the ground. It was somewhat satisfying to watch the coffee drip onto Sombra as the hacker tried to scoot away from it. As soon as Sombra climbed back into her chair, Widowmaker turned to leave.

“You’re going now?”

“Yes.”

Sombra yawned, wiping away the coffee that dribbled down from her hair. “Stay safe.”

A pause. Widowmaker took a moment to look back at Sombra, seeing that she was halfway to falling asleep again. As far as she could remember, no one at Talon had ever given her well wishes before. It wasn’t as if she needed it, but hearing it brought up something she couldn’t quite pin down.

In a split-second decision, Widowmaker made a detour towards the kitchen. She grabbed a hand-towel and found herself back at the table where once again, Sombra was sound asleep. There was no definitive reason why she was wiping the table down, only that she was doing it. And there wasn’t a purpose in trying to shake the sleeping woman awake, only that it was happening.

“Hmm?” Someone was moving her arm around something cold. Sombra blinked and suddenly she was standing, Widowmaker holding her upright.

“Walk.”

She nodded along to the instruction. Walking wasn’t so hard. Only that maybe it was. Sombra spent most of her time walking into the wall while Widowmaker only gave a minimal effort to prevent it from happening. By the time she got to her room, she was mostly awake, special thanks to the wall.

“Thanks for the escort.” A yawn. “It was a little bumpy, but I’ll live.” Sombra smiled at the way Widowmaker looked away from her. “Come back in one piece okay?” The answering nod made her chuckle all the way to the bed.

Widowmaker stared into the dark room that the tired woman left open. She could see Sombra had landed diagonally on the bed, a foot hanging off the side.

The door slid shut when she touched the side panel. She needed to take another detour before leaving. The smell of coffee was all over her clothes.

-

There was a strange routine that developed between them. Even though Sombra was the biggest distraction she’d ever known, Widowmaker found that she was somehow comfortable with it.

She didn’t quite mind the cheeky smiles or playful quips. And somehow the hacker always knew when she was in the mood for quiet company. During those times, Sombra would just sit near and do research, half the time falling asleep from her inactivity.

There was this feeling that sprouted with the hacker’s presence. And Widowmaker wanted nothing more than to chase it down.

-

She was running for an eternity. Each huff of breath coming from behind told her to keep moving. Last time she checked, someone was standing by her translocator. So, it was either keep going or get caught. There was no in between. 

“How long do I have to keep running?” The words she spoke into the comms were rushed. She was really making an effort to keep her momentum going.

“I can almost see you. Make a left at the next turn.”

It was like seeing the light at the end of a tunnel when she finally turned the left corner, a set of double doors marking her escape. Her legs sped up and she grinned when her hand nearly touched the doors. She ended up getting the wind knocked out of her.

“Damnit.” Sombra struggled against the grip on her coat. It proved to be of little use as strong arms pulled her back from the doors. The instant she tried to use her gun on her attacker, it quickly found itself on the floor. “You don’t think you could let go of me, could you? I’d really appreciate it.”

The answering grunt was all she needed. That and the ache that spread through her face as she fell to the ground with a skid. He punched me. He actually punched me. A quick check with her tongue told her she still had all her teeth. At the moment, the busted lip was ignorable.

Scrambling on the floor, Sombra managed to get to the doors before being yanked back again. “You know, I am getting really tired of this.” She was pretty sure they wanted her alive and that was the only reason her attacker didn’t just shoot her. Either way, it still hurt and she was one hundred percent done with it.

She turned around and scratched the living hell out of his arms with the extended nails of her glove. As soon as the grip on her arm loosened, she pushed off of him and basically fell her way out the doors.

He was dead before taking one step outside, blood coloring the hallway behind him.

“I owe you one.” It didn’t even matter that part of her face was scraped to hell from her landing. Sombra was just relieved that she could finally stop running.

She managed to wobble her way back into the hallway to pick up her gun before walking back outside and slumping against the side of the wall. Ten minutes. She just needed ten minutes to put herself back together before getting out of there.

Seven minutes had passed when she heard the sound of familiar boots walking her way.

“How bad does it look?” One eye was sealed shut to keep the blood dripping down her forehead from seeping in.

Widowmaker was kneeled in front of Sombra. Her fingers carefully outlined the bloodied mess covering half of her partner’s face. Bad wasn’t even the word that came close to her mind.

“Speechless huh?” The copper taste on her tongue grew stronger each time she swallowed. That didn’t stop the smirk that formed as the best idea ever popped into her mind. “Think you can kiss it better?” She expected a scoff. Maybe an eyeroll. Definitely some choice words. But none of that came.

Purple eyes widened in surprise when Widowmaker cupped her face with both hands. The chill was distracting enough to take the edge off the pain. Not that she even noticed the hurt anymore. There was just the thumping of her heart as cold lips pressed gently to hers.

“Better?”

She could only nod because the pain was far away, her mind fogged over in a dizzy haze. “Yeah, all good.”

 

 


	16. First kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A kinda late 'First Kiss' prompt for Pharmercy. Sorry if there's any mistakes and hopefully you like it :')

The sound of fast, precise fingers dancing across the keyboard was the loudest source of noise in Angela’s office. Instinctively, Angela reaches to push her glasses further up the bridge of her nose as they began to slide down. She only needs to type out a couple more emails to send out to the families of some of her patients, something she likes to do for those whose families didn’t have the luxury of being able to visit very often. However, in this moment she wishes for nothing more than to be finished with it all. 

Briefly Angela glanced up from her screen to peek at the other occupant of her moderately sized office, the woman stretched out in one of her office chairs as she spun herself around in circles. She smiles at her display of slight childishness, but empathizes with her as her boredom was more than evident. Angela felt some minor guilt about the woman’s current situation considering she was waiting for her to finish her work, and even more so because she hadn’t even left her desk to greet the woman when she entered. In Angela’s defense, she knew better than anyone that if she had stood up from her desk to do so she would have never sat back down, her work forgotten until the end of the weekend. When she initially received the call from the front desk that she had a ‘Fareeha Amari’ looking for her, Angela was more than ready to fly downstairs right then and there. However, she instead asked Fareeha to wait until she finished up her work.

And here they are now, still in her office hours later.

“I’m almost finished, Fareeha,” she consoles as she watched her stop and begin to spin in the other direction now. She doesn’t look for too long, though, because then she’d really never finish. 

The sound of fingers tapping against the keys fill the room once more. 

Fareeha makes an indistinguishable noise in reply. With every oscillation in her chair she’d take a look at Angela typing so fast and furiously. She took great joy in her expressions while so focused on the particular task. It was adorable how her brows furrowed as she typed a serious sentence or raised in question as she hammered the backspace key. Fareeha didn’t know what she was writing but she had been waiting in this room long enough to pick up that much from Angela’s facial expressions.

They had been talking just about every day since their initial meeting months ago during an assignment Fareeha and her squad had serving as bodyguards for a celebrity patient being treated in this exact hospital. Fareeha had immediately became smitten by the doctor, but it wasn’t so easy getting her attention. She was a very busy woman, something Fareeha expected, but it was that busyness that gave her the opportunity to have a moment alone with her.

Fareeha eyes the empty coffee mug on her desk, the words ‘best fucking doctor ever” printed on the front. It was a spur of the moment idea to offer Angela that mug filled with coffee during the small window of which she had downtime, and would turn out to be just what she needed get closer to her. It would become one of Angela’s favorite mugs, too.

Ever since then they really hit it off. And even though, their jobs were demanding and they rarely got to see each other in person, they’ve been going pretty strong.

When Fareeha made the decision to surprise Angela at her office today she expected she would be waiting, but she didn’t expect to be waiting for so long. It was a Friday, after all. She knew Angela was busy, but she hadn’t known she was this busy all the time. Especially on a Friday.

Since she’s been in the office waiting Fareeha managed to do one hundred pushups, rearrange the books on her bookshelf in alphabetical order from numerals to A to Z, and water all of Angela’s plants (which she’s pretty sure are already dead). 

A quick glance at the clock would show that the reservations she had made were at least an hour ago. 

It was looking slow for that plan…

Especially slow, too, as Angela doesn’t actually finish for another hour. By then Fareeha had moved to the cushioned chair where she pretended to be upset with Angela. 

With a sad smile Angela turned the monitor off and stood from her chair with a stretch. The quiet squeal she made from the stretch made Fareeha smirk, but when Angela locked eyes with her she promptly returned to her pout. 

At this Angela frowns but not for long as she walks over to the woman lounging in the chair. Fareeha watches her the entire time (as discreetly as she could because she is still trying to feign being upset with her) up until the blonde plops herself onto her lap when she deliberately turned to face away from her.

Now it was Angela’s turn to pout.

“Hey,” she tries, weaving her arms around Fareeha’s shoulders. When she still gets no reaction from the woman under her she starts to panic mildly. “Are you really mad at me?” The thought of such a thing sent a spike through Angela’s chest, the idea of them having a first fight so soon and before they even managed to have their first kiss, let alone their first date. Before she knows it, Angela begins rambling off in an apologies. “I’m sorry, I tried to finish as fast as I could but all this work suddenly came out of nowhere and I couldn’t just leave it to sit over the weekend and I—“

“Angela.” Fareeha’s voice stops her and she finds herself looking into brown eyes filled with warmth. “It’s okay. I’m not mad,” she reassures, causing Angela’s worries expression to lighten up some more. “I mean, I am a little disappointed-“

Angela frowns. 

“-but! It’s okay, since I’ll have you all to myself for the weekend,” Fareeha reassures her, however Angela still feels bad about it. 

“I’m still sorry. I bet you had a wonderful night planned out for us.”

“I did, actually. I wanted to make a great impression for our official first date.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Excuse me?”

Angela shuffles in Fareeha’s lap so that she straddles her, smirking at her heated face in response. “Tell me about your plans for tonight,” she repeats as she leans back. 

“But it’ll just sound cliche if I say it…”

“Then make it sound un-cliche,” was all the advice Angela had to offer her, set on hearing what Fareeha had in store for tonight. 

It took Fareeha some time to think of a way to sofisticate her words but in the end she settled with telling Angela she simply had plans to take her out to dinner and a night time walk through the park. Just as she had predicted it only sounded hella cliche. “I told you it would sound bad… The restaurant I chose wasn’t anything too fancy, but they serve that potato dish you told me about one time. I remember you said it used to be your favorite when you were little, so I thought you might appreciate it.

“And I was going to take you to the park across town. There’s a beautiful garden there and I thought you’d enjoy seeing it under the moonlight. During some of our video calls I noticed some books you had on gardening. I see you even have a few in your bookshelf here,” she adds, taking in how neat and organized the books are now. “Well, I figured since barely have time for me, you definitely don’t have time to garden, so why not just take you to one?”

“And then what, Fareeha?” Angela asks. As she listened to Fareeha’s words, she was especially touched by the little things that influenced her decisions for tonight’s plan. She had been feeling the taste for a nice homemade rosti and she had been wanting to visit the garden across town. The fact that Fareeha knew this without her even telling her about it made it much more meaningful. 

Now she felt the guilt of ruining her plans even more, even though Fareeha still didn’t seem too upset. 

“Well that’s it I guess. It’s not too cold out but I brought a jacket in case you needed it. I expected at some point we’d just sit in the garden and talk,” she shrugs. “Then I’d walk you back to your apartment?”

While that sounded nice, it wasn’t quite what Angela was looking to hear. 

“This sounds like I beautiful night. I’m sorry again that I ruined it,” she sneaks in the apology, before quickly speaking again before Fareeha could interject. “But! You say it was cliche yet you’re missing the most cliche part of all.”

Fareeha gives her a questionable look, especially as she shifts forward on her lap so their faces were a lot closer. She tries to ignore the increased beating of her heart and the heat spreading across her cheeks. “W-which part?”

A gently placed hand on the side of her face only ignites them further. 

“Close your eyes.”

She does as she’s told with slight hesitation, and as soon as she enters the darkness is already shaking internally with anticipation. Angela’s thumb traces a trail down the side of her face, ending right next to the side of her lips. She feels her shift again and just as quickly she feels a cool breeze against her lips. She’s ready for what is to come next and finds herself inching forward just the smallest bit in anticipation. 

In actuality she hadn’t left out her intentions for their first kiss. Her plans were just as cliche as she said. In the garden at night under the almost full moon (damn astrology or science or whatever for not giving her the whole thing tonight) was the setting she decided the kiss would take place in. If not there then she hoped in front of her doorstep after she had walked her home. 

Angela’s office wasn’t exactly on the forefront or the back of her mind and definitely wasn’t as romantic, but it would have to do.

The woman atop her shifts again, and as ready as she was, nothing prepared Fareeha for the moment she felt soft lips against her—

Cheek?

Brown eyes snapped open, mixed with confusion and betrayal as Fareeha stared at the smiling woman across from her. Here she was expecting their first kiss and instead she got a basic, friendly kiss on her cheek. She felt so betrayed by what she expected to happen and what actually happened that the words left her mouth before he even could think about them.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it?” Angela repeats with a bit more emphasis, an eyebrow raised as if asking Fareeha to elaborate. When she doesn’t, the blonde continues, “Was my kiss inadequate for you?”

“I- well, no, b-but—“

She couldn’t exactly say she was expecting more...

“Give it back then.”

What?

Fareeha is a lot more than confused now, especially as Angela turns her head to tap her cheek. “If you’re going to be ungrateful give it back.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Fareeha looked at her incredulously, as if she couldn’t believe this was happening, but the doctor as more than serious. She taps the spot on her cheek impatiently and this time Fareeha can’t hold back the unbelievable laugh at what was happening right now. 

Either way she leans forward to place a kiss on a pale cheek. “There.”

“Hmm, I don’t know… The one I gave you was a little longer than that. I think you still owe me.”

“What?” Fareeha laughs, so sure that she couldn’t be serious but somehow knowing that she was more than serious, even despite the growing smirk on her face. 

“You heard me. Come on, we don’t have all night.”

She still couldn’t believe this was happening, but with an exasperated sigh and a shake of her head she leaned up to repay the rest of her debt. She was sure she had aimed for the expanse of smooth skin (and it wasn’t like she could miss such a big target anyway), which was why her eyes widened a fraction when her lips were met instead with Angela’s own smiling ones against hers. She had turned her head so quickly last minute and it through Fareeha off guard. 

They parted and Fareeha gave her a look for having played her so easily before kissing her properly.

With a hand on her waist and the other on her face, this was how Fareeha imagined their first kiss to be. Well, the setting could use some work but sometimes you have to work with what you got.

“Look who wants to be a jokester all of a sudden,” Fareeha states when they part.

“Oh hush, you’ll ruin the moment.”

“I think you already did that two kisses ago.”

“It was all in good fun.”

Fareeha scoffs, “Yeah, fun for you.”

Angela slides off of Fareeha’s lap to stand, offering the taller woman a hand up. She accepts even though she doesn’t need to help, but notes that the blonde holds onto her hand still even when she’s standing. She squeezes it lightly before she speaks.

“Are you still up for visiting the park? It is too late for dinner, but I can at least make half of your plans for tonight come true.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to head home and rest?”

She shakes her head. “No, I owe you at least this much. And maybe then we can have a real first kiss.”

At that Fareeha laughs. Yeah, she may have had a mental plan for how she expected it to go, but since when do things ever really go how you plan them? 

“Even though you tricked me, that was a wonderful first kiss,” she says meaningfully. “But, I’ll still hold you to one in the garden.”


	17. Rearranging Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's rearranging time at Overwatch for another year, and Angela Zeigler's not the most happy about it because it means she's been pushed out of her quarters while they make improvements. She's not sure who she'll be rooming up with, but she doesn't know too many people around the organization too well - not yet - and doesn't exactly have many she'd call "friend". Luckily, fate has a pleasant surprise in store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Another one from me, folks - this one's about 11k words (sorry I got distracted) and it's about a friendship! It's set back during the Overwatch days, before the Uprising and before the Slipstream, and before most of the big controversy around Overwatch started to arise, closer to when Angela first joined up (muddy timelines are muddy). Also, it's the canonical backstory for these two, in my longer story "Both Sides Now", so there's that too!

It was getting toward that time of year, again. That time when, for whatever reason, all of the sheets and checklists came out - that time when the powers-that-be decided to toss everything into the air and juggle it around at the apogee and hope that it came down intact and in better shape than before.

It was rearranging time at Overwatch once more.

Doctor Angela Zeigler awaited this time of year with some dread. It was near the fiscal rollover - new budgetary limitations would be announced soon, which was of course of concern to her and her department, but it was  _ also _ the time for everyone  _ else _ to receive the same news.

On top of which, right then  _ specifically _ was the time to spend the last of whatever money you hadn’t already gone through. For some departments like hers, Medical Research and Aid, that wasn’t really an issue. They always went over-budget anyway, much to the higher-ups’ dismay, but there were some other departments which had the opposite problem.

When one’s headquarters is filled with all manner and sundry of oddities and entities - from genetically-engineered gorillas to good old-fashioned soldiers (with a few million dollars of medical and weapons R&D crammed into them and at their disposal) -  _ facilities _ ended up having a very large budget. A very large budget of which they were  _ very _ protective, because when at any moment a door which had the gall to not open quickly enough might end up smashed through by a gorilla whose suppression systems shorted out, one needed to count one’s pennies. When, at any moment, an overly trigger-happy soldier might punch a rocket hole through the wall of the firing range, one needed to have money in one’s budget - no matter the month, no matter the day.

The long and short of it was that, at the end of the fiscal year, Overwatch’s Facilities Maintenance and Repair branch went on a bit of a spending spree. They needed to use the funds they’d held in reserve in order to justify the same budget for next year, or risk have their spending cut - so, the end of the fiscal year was rearranging time at Overwatch. Upgrade time.

It all seemed a little foolish to Dr. Zeigler, and she grumbled as she lugged her standard issue blue duffel bag down the gleaming hallways.

It all seemed a little bit foolish, and that wasn’t  _ just _ because she was being kicked out of her quarters because of the upgrades.

“A new cryo-tank,” she muttered under her breath snarkily, “ah yes, that is what we really need. Not more surgical equipment, no no - we need to be able to freeze things to less than five degrees Kelvin! Ha!”

She let out a sigh, pausing for a second on her grumbling trudge down the hallway to press a hand to her forehead and brush away the blonde hair which framed her face. “You’re just irate because you haven’t had any coffee yet,” she admonished herself, and then laughed in response and acknowledgement. “Well of  _ course _ I am! Who  _ wouldn’t _ be irate before having their coffee?”

“I know  _ I _ would.”

The doctor froze in the hallway, blood creeping slowly up her neck and into her cheeks as she tried (and failed) to shrink down into her own clothes somehow and avoid all notice, because she recognized that voice.

“Mornin’, doc.”

“McCree!” Zeigler spun around with a half-forced smile and a half-suppressed blush on her face. “It is nice to se-” she cut off as he held out a mug toward her, steam rising from the dark brown liquid instead. Her eyes flicked to it almost desperately. “Three sugars, no cream?”

“Just how you like it, doc,” he confirmed with a grin and let out a chuckle as Angela grabbed it with a little wanton noise. He held another cup for himself, thick with creamer, and took a sip.

She cradled the mug in both hands, tipping it immediately back and taking a gulp which almost overwhelmed her with its heat and strength. A noise of surprise escaped her nose and she stared down to the cup in awed incredulity for a moment. Then, her eyes rose to meet Jesse’s.

He was a little bit ridiculous, but also a little bit terrifying. A cowboy hat and a cape (of sorts, at least) in that era - it took a lot of confidence to pull off. Jesse McCree  _ definitely _ pulled it off. If there was one thing he had, it was confidence.

If there were  _ two _ things he had, they were confidence and the fastest gun-hand worldwide.

...three - if there were three things he had, Angela would have needed to admit that the third was a pretty charming smile and general demeanor, which he now displayed proudly as she eyed him suspiciously.

“This isn’t commissary coffee,” she muttered, holding the mug close to her chin like a gremlin hoarding a precious coin. Overwatch’s commissary was an impressive affair, with a wide range of foodstuffs and beverages to serve their incredibly diverse staff, but they had some of the poorest coffee Angela had ever tasted in her life.

...and she had once brewed the stuff straight in the tin over a campfire.

“No ma’am, it is not,” McCree admitted with a chuckle and a tip of his hat, and a slightly nervous glance around. He sidled closer and dropped his voice, fixing the doctor with a look that was somewhere between playful and serious. “Can you uh… keep a secret, doc?”

She blinked, frowning slightly. The answer was yes, of course, although it did depend on the secret - and given McCree’s occupation as a member of Blackwatch, Overwatch’s covert operations arm, the secret was likely to be something Angela didn’t want to know in the first place.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. She  _ did. _ She just didn’t really like his  _ job. _ Or any of the ones that were more interested in shooting at people than helping them.

Another whiff of that heavenly brew had her mouth salivating, though, and she took another deep sip without taking her eyes off of his. “Mmmmmaybe.”

McCree chuckled, flashing that charming grin again. “Well, let’s say - in lieu of a secret, maybe let’s just say that you’d best get used to that coffee there, doc. Suspect you’ll be gettin’ a lot more of it in the future upcomin’...”

She raised an eyebrow but he just shrugged, grinning still - his eyes twinkled with greater knowledge, and with amusement, but he refused to yield to her narrow-eyed demi-glare.

“Mmmm.” Her hooded lids narrowed even further, a smirk taking her lips. “I suppose if it gets me more of this, it would be worthwhile, whatever this secret is.”

Jesse laughed, nodding. “Fair enough, then! You’re headin’ to yer new accommodations, huh? Why don’t you let a cowboy give you a hand?”

Doctor Zeigler sighed lightly, half-rolling her eyes - but she  _ did _ have both hands dedicated to this cup of coffee now, which left none for her duffel bag. “Alright, if you insist.”

“Well, I ain’t the type to normally insist with a lady, but if that’s what it takes to help you out…” he shrugged easily and leant down to swing the bag over his shoulder, chuckling as Angela laughed brightly.

He had a habit of cheering her up. She wouldn’t necessarily say that they were exactly  _ friends, _ but she’d like to think that they  _ could _ be, at least. It wasn’t something she could say for everyone around here. Not that they weren’t good, they  _ were _ , but they also… had their own concerns.

Jesse didn’t seem to - at least, not when he was around her. Or around anyone, for that matter; on missions was a different matter entirely, but when he was having a chat that was what his focus was dedicated to.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” she explained with a sigh. “All the hammering.”

“Ahh,” McCree nodded loosely, taking another sip of his own coffee. “I’m sure that distracted ya from the research that was  _ actually _ keeping you awake.”

Angela smacked at his shoulder lightly with the back of her hand and a shocked laugh. “What! I never - Jesse McCree, whatever are you implying?” She turned her nose up. “I’ll have you know I would have slept for  _ at least _ five hours, had there not been power tools all throughout the night.”

The cowboy flashed her a smirk and made an almost apologetic gesture. “No offence meant, doc, but you really should know better’n to try to lie to me ‘bout  _ anything _ , least of all something I know with such certainty as that.”

Once more she gasped, aghast - on the face of it, at least. Her wide grin and bright eyes belied her true humour, however. “Jesse McCree! Are you calling me  _ a liar?” _

He hissed through his teeth, tipping his head off to the side. “Hmm, now that don’t sound too polite, wouldn’tcha say? Don’t want to go bein’ rude, so I suppose I’ve got to say no, doc.”

She chuckled again, once more sipping from her hot mug of delicious wakefulness. They continued down the hallway at an easy pace, and she started thinking about the directions to the room she’d be staying in for at least the interim while the cryo-tank was being installed.

“I suppose you’ll have been ousted from your room as well, then?” Angela shot the cowboy a curious glance in time to see him chuckling.

“Well, not as such. I got to stay in place, but I  _ did _ get somebody assigned to my quarters. Temporarily, of course, but still…” he sighed, shrugging, “but I pulled a few strings and made sure it’d be somebody good, at least. Gonna be spending a couple weeks or maybe more with ‘em, better make sure we’ll get long right, right?”

“Right,” she agreed with a nod, “of course. Wouldn’t want to add to that stress, certainly. Left down this hall-” she cut off as he turned, almost before she said anything about it, and took a side hallway. He was quick, though - that was why he was still alive.

Well, that, and  _ her _ , of course.

“Well, I wish you luck with it, whoever your new roommate is,” Angela flashed him a smile. A thought clicked into place and she snapped her fingers. “Oh! I did want to speak with you about something else, actually. Commander Morrison was saying that... if I’m going to be operating in the field, I need to carry a weapon from here on forward.”

McCree easily caught the sour look that crossed her face at the mention. He was pretty sure he’d met  _ statues _ who could’ve caught that look. She’d been going on field operations for a few months now with her Valkyrie suit and had quickly gained a reputation for being incredibly helpful, and also quite the opposite. In terms of healing she was indispensable, but she also brought an intense (and in his opinion, somewhat ironically almost militant) pacifism which did have a tendency to interfere in certain operations.

Although, if you asked him, the best operations were always the ones where you came home with the same six rounds in the cylinder, anyway. A successful mission where no bullets were fired was the real goal, at least in his mind - it didn’t mean he thought it could always happen, or that he’d stay his own hand from the trigger if the risk was too great, but it was a goal he had in the back of his mind at least. He could see where she was coming from in wanting the same.

Suffice to say, he could figure out why the doctor wasn’t too pleased with this latest news coming down from the top brass. “Guessin’ you’re not exactly shittin’ in high cotton over that development, huh?”

Her look of sudden alarm had him laughing and holding out a hand to forestall any comments. “Sorry! Sorry, it’s a uh - it’s an expression, from back home, give or take.” He grinned and gave her a little nod. “Means uh, happy or doin’ well, kinda.”

“Oh.” She frowned slightly, but in fairness, she couldn’t raise many eyebrows over it. Not when, for instance, all things had their end and only a sausage had two. Phrases could be odd sometimes. “Well, no, then, I am not. I don’t like needing to carry a weapon…” she took a deep breath and sighed it out. “Morrison said I never need to use it in the field, and I do not plan to, but I must pass my proficiency test at the range every month like any other field agent if I wish to be deployed on missions.” She scowled sourly. “No more special dispensation.”

“That’s a damn shame,” McCree grumbled in support, “beggin’ your pardon for the language. No offence though, I can’t exactly see you as the rifle-toting type, doc.”

Angela laughed briefly, waving down another hallway to direct Jesse that way. “Oh, no, nothing like that. Just a sidearm - but… that was what I wanted to talk to you about, anyway.”

He raised an eyebrow, hiking the duffel bag up a little higher on his shoulder. It had sagged low enough that it made the Peacekeeper poke uncomfortably into his thigh.

“It’s just,” Zeigler shrugged, glancing away and sipping at her mug. “I… I need to learn how to use it anyway, for the proficiency test. I suppose, if-” she winced a little, “-if it  _ really _ came down to the line, I would like to know how to use it. I still don’t think I ever will, but…”

Her shoulders sagged as she let her head drop forward, bending to the mug of coffee again. It was nearly empty and, while it had been formidable, she was generally pretty acclimatized to the effects of caffeine. No mere mug could hope to do much for her, and certainly not to stave off the malaise that came from certain realizations she’d come to.

Maybe she’d been numbed to it since joining Overwatch, or maybe she was simply becoming more afraid, but there had been a time when she never in her life would have considered the idea of harming somebody else - even to save herself. Now, though, she found herself sometimes thinking about the worst - and thinking that, in that case, it might be helpful to be able to have one more card to play. Even though she hated that card.

She didn’t realize they’d stopped walking and pulled over to the side of the hallway - she’d followed McCree without thinking, without any mention on his part, and only tore her eyes away from the mug to meet his as he laid a hand hesitantly and gently on her shoulder.

“Look, doc,” he murmured softly, meeting her eyes. “I know we ain’t childhood besties or anythin’, but I think I’ve got a pretty good hold on you. You’re a good person. Ain’t a thing in the world that’ll change that - definitely not thinking that you might wanna be able to defend yourself. And… you wanna know a secret?” He glanced around for a second before leaning in with a smile. “If you know how to use it right, there’s probably never a time you’ll need to kill in self-defence. Good aim and good trainin’ should mean you can incapacitate and escape rather than needin’ to resort to anythin’ worse.”

Angela sighed softly, a smile returning to her lips - it was good to know that somebody thought she was a good person, and it was an encouraging thought that she might be able to wound rather than kill. Wounds healed. Deaths didn’t tend to. Not yet, at least.

The simple fact that he referred to killing as “worse” was encouraging as well.

“Thank you, McCree,” Angela smiled. The expression shifted a little less solemn and a little sillier as she raised the mug a little. “That’ll be twice today you’ve saved me!”

McCree let out a laugh, patting her on the shoulder and hefting the duffel bag easily again, as if it were a pillow to sling over his shoulder rather than a hundred pounds of assorted paraphernalia. “So you thought you’d come to me for shootin’ lessons? Mind if’n I ask why, doc?”

Angela shrugged, following Jesse along the hallway. People milled around, mostly dealing with their own oustings or new placements as a result of the widespread changes to the facility. “Well, a few reasons. You’re the only one who regularly uses a pistol - Morrison has his assault rifle, Amari has sniper, Reyes has his shotguns. I suppose Torbjörn’s weapon might be somewhat similar-”

“Oh, don’t even get me  _ started _ on that darn thing,” McCree softly growled in frustration before chuckling. “Y’know he gave me a whole hour with that thing at the range? Not only could I  _ still _ not hit an apple from twenty paces, I was shootin’ crooked for a week after that!”

He laughed and Angela joined in, because while she might not understand exactly how or why the guns were that different to fire, she could  _ definitely _ understand - and even see in her mind - the Swedish Engineer’s smug look of satisfaction as he stood off to the side and watched McCree frustratedly failing to shoot an apple.

“So, that was one reason,” Angela continued after their laughter had subsided. McCree took the next turn without her guidance and she didn’t notice until afterward, but she must have mentioned it earlier. Hadn’t she? She must have - told him where she was moving to, over in the West wing. “You also have the highest accuracy out of anyone here with the exception of Captain Amari.”

“Good you mentioned that exception,” McCree muttered out of the side of his mouth. “Pretty sure she c’n hear through the whole base, and if I’m honest I’m outright terrified of the woman.”

Angela giggled softly, nodding her head. It was quite fitting, really - although the idea of somebody as capable as Jesse McCree (and, she hated to think it, but also somebody who had been through as many horrible things) being scared of  _ anything _ was more than a little silly.

She drained the last of the coffee from her mug, brewed so strong she thought she could almost chew it. “Ah, yes, so that was the second reason. And, then, thirdly, well…” she shrugged a little, suddenly feeling slightly awkward about it - a little abashed for no reason in particular.

Or, perhaps, for no real reason save for the fact that they’d never interacted outside of a professional space. Even in and around the base, they’d never made a  _ point _ of getting together for anything - Morrison and Reyes would play pool, with Reinhardt as well sometimes; Reinhardt and Torbjörn would chat late into the night whilst tinkering with the Crusader suit - and while she and Jesse had always had quite pleasant and even fun interactions, they’d never done anything like that.

As a result, it felt a little odd, to Angela, for her to call him a friend. She wasn’t sure she really had  _ any _ friends here at Overwatch, actually, but she thought that probably Jesse was the closest.

“Mm, that’s one heck of a third reason you’ve got there, doc,” McCree replied sardonically to her silence, chuckling at the blush which leapt to her cheeks. “See, here and I was hopin’ you’d just wanted to spend a little more time with a friend.”

Her eyes flashed to meet his for just an instant, blush deepening, before she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Should have known better than to try to hide anything from you.”

“Yes you should’ve, doc,” McCree laughed briefly, “but it’s good. Got a lot of acquaintances around base, but… don’t know if I’d say I’ve got a lot of friends. Or any, maybe. Was kinda hoping, maybe, you wouldn’t mind being the first on that list?”

“Oh, you’ve got plenty of friends,” Angela waved a hand dismissively. “Everybody likes talking to you.”

“Do they?” He chuckled. “Well, colour me surprised. Way I figured it, nobody’s more popular’n a medic amongst soldiers.”

“Well, sometimes popularity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Angela muttered somewhat darkly and was surprised by a rough laugh from McCree. “You laugh, but you don’t know what I need to put up with! Last week - last week!”

She stopped in the hallway, drawing up to her full height and pointing an accusing finger at the still-laughing cowboy.  _ “Last week,” _ she hissed insistently, “I needed to extract  _ three darts _ from a certain soldier’s latissimus dorsii, and don’t think I don’t know who was  _ throwing _ those darts Mr. ‘Blindfolded Bullseye Bill’!”

McCree had to stop, to crouch down and support himself on one knee from the force of the laughter; his coffee sloshed in the mug but not a drop spilled as he guffawed. “I- I am so sorry about that one, doc. Don’t suppose I could call it a party trick gone wrong, could I?”

“You can call it whatever you like,” she huffed lightly, “but that doesn’t change the fact that Erickson couldn’t swing a wrench for two days, and Mechanical wouldn’t stop complaining about it. My  _ point _ is that you might be overstating the desirability of a medic’s popularity amongst soldiers.”

McCree’s raucous laughter had trailed into chuckles, and he wiped a tear of joy from his cheek with the back of his mug-bearing hand, hiking the duffel bag back into place. “Well, that’s a cryin’ shame there, doc. Way I see it there ain’t a lot of people on this base would be as good as you to call friend.”

Angela tipped her head to the side, looking at him in some confusion at the sentimental and quite sweet statement. “Oh, well… thank you, McCree.”

“Oh, Jesse, doc, please,” he flashed her a grin.

“Jesse, then,” she smiled softly. “And you can call me whatever you like.

He chuckled. “Well, I’ll try not to abuse the privelege! Anyway,” the duffel bag slipped off of his shoulder and slid softly to the ground next to a door - number 117a, her new temporary quarters. “Welcome home, I guess!”

She smiled gratefully, holding out the empty coffee mug for him to take while something still tickled at the back of her mind. “I suppose it is! Thank you, Jesse - for the coffee, for the hand, and for the conversation as well. Do you think maybe you’d like to get lunch today?”

“Sounds like a good plan to me, doc.” He nodded, taking the mug from her hand and leaning back against the wall a little, evidently not planning on heading off quite yet.

It was a little peculiar, but Angela didn’t think much of it - she tugged her ID card out of her pocket and waved it at the proximity reader; the light blinked green and the door unlocked as she leant down to pick up her duffel bag.  _ “Phantastisch, ja. _ Well, thank you again, Jesse - I’ll see you around, then, I suppose, and I’ll…”

The doctor trailed off into an incomprehending silence as her mind rifled through the past few minutes and a slow frown took over her face. Her eyes shifted to meet the cowboy’s. “I… never  _ told _ you where my new quarters were.”

She knew he was good at finding secrets, but this seemed a little odd.

McCree chuckled and shook his head a little, tugging out his ID card and tapping it at the door’s reader. The light blinked green. “S’pose you didn’t, there, but you won’t be needin’ to go far to see me. How about I show you around the place, Roomie?”

She tossed her head back for a laugh, following the cowboy into the quarters. “I thought you said you pulled some strings when it came to your new roommate? To get a friend - somebody good?”

He let out a laugh, rubbing at his neck with one hand and not quite succeeding in hiding a bit of a blush from his cheeks. “Well uh… I did say that, didn’t I? Heh, well, I stand by my words. Ain’t anybody on base who fits that description better’n you, doc.”

Her grin hurt her cheeks a little as the door slid closed behind them and she slid the duffel bag into the corner. “Jesse! I’m flattered, thank you. Now, the first and most important question is-”

“Yes ma’am, I  _ have _ been hiding a coffee machine in here in direct contradiction to Overwatch regulations,” he responded quickly, pre-empting her actual question. “It’s in my room and of course you’ve got free reign of it as long as you’re here - and even afterward, if’n you like.”

“I would very much like that, I think,” she muttered swiftly, smirking to him. “And I suppose I should not be surprised that the rules aren’t quite restricting you.”

The cowboy let out a laugh, pulling off his hat and setting it on a hook on the wall. “S’pose not! I’d say there’s a difference between what’s allowed, and what’s  _ right, _ and there’s only one of those two I give a damn about.”

“Well, I can’t say that better coffee is wrong,” she sighed almost dreamily before fixing him with an excited look. “Can I see it?”

With a chuckle, he nodded and led the way, gesturing her to follow. “Of course! Hide it inside the closet behind a false panel, I’ll show ya so you can grab a cup whenever you need. Then, the grand tour!”

Angela giggled softly with a bright nod, excitement and anticipation replacing caffeine as a temporary source of wakefulness, but maybe temporary replacements weren’t too bad. Her eyes flickered curiously around the quarters - they weren’t too large, and roughly similar to hers. A central room with a couch and a small table, with bedroom attached; McCree’s room had two, though, it seemed, along with the bathroom.

He thumbed a button and one of the doors slid open. Angela stepped through before he did, and the lights brightened automatically.

“Hey there, cowbo-”

Her eyes widened as they landed on the bed. There was a man there who she recognized as one of the scientists who was working on the Aerospace projects, and he reacted with just as much shock as she did.

It was also worth mentioning that he was wearing no clothes, and Angela was only saved from completely fatal levels of embarrassment by a bunch of flowers which he held in front of his crotch.

“D-doctor Zeigler!” He squeaked. “God, I’m so- so sorry, I-”

“Max what the fuck are you-” McCree shoved past Angela into the room, blushing furiously. “Get- what the hell are you thinking, I-”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you’d have-” Max jumped up from the bed, abashedly clutching the flowers to hide as much as he could as his dark cheeks deepened even further with blood.

“I told you I was getting a roommate! Get some damn pants on you-” McCree’s words were growled, his cheeks beet-red as he stalked around the room to grab up some clothes and throw them at the engineer.

“I didn’t think that was happening until tomorrow!” Max protested, shooting a desperately apologetic look toward the now red-faced and giggling doctor who stood in the doorway. “I’m so, so, so sorry ma’am, I really- I didn’t mean-”

“SHUT UP AND FOCUS ON PUTTING ON YOUR PANTS DAMMIT!” McCree jumped over the bed and grabbed the edges of his cape, stretching it wide to try to block Max from Angela’s view. “J- I am so sorry about this, doc, I didn’t mean to-”

“I-I think-” she stammered through her laughter, “that we were- all three of us surprised by this!”

McCree groaned as Max hurriedly pulled on a pair of pants, but when he went to get a shirt on, McCree grabbed his arm and pushed him toward the door. “No, no no just get out, just-”

“I- I’m sorry, Jessie Bear, I just-”

“Don’t  _ call _ me that in front of-” McCree hissed, but Max interrupted.

“Did you like the flowers at least?”

“Yes you know chrysanthemums are my favourite,” Jesse snapped, “now shut up and get out of here and I’ll see you for dinner.” He opened the front door and shoved Max out into the hallway, shirtless and slightly shaky from embarrassment.

Then, with a heavy groan, McCree turned and stepped back into the room. He dropped himself heavily onto the couch, burying his head in his hands as the sound of cackling laughter drifted in from the other room. “Cannot  _ believe _ my own stupid…” he muttered to himself, trying to massage to blush out of his cheeks with his hands. He failed, of course.

A moment or two later, the laughter faded away and he heard a throat being cleared. He left his head in his hands rather than looking up. “I’ll uh… I’ll talk to Facilities about gettin’ you a new room there, doc, I’m sorry about-”

“Oh, did I do something wrong?” Angela frowned in mock concern. “Are you kicking me out so soon?”

“Kick-” McCree choked on the word, head snapping up and hands flying out. “No, no not- what? No, of course you didn’t, I just figured… well, y’know, after that, uh-” he cleared his throat and frowned. “Sorry again.”

“I really don’t know why you’re so bothered,” Angela murmured thoughtfully through a grin. “I haven’t laughed that hard in  _ ages.” _

McCree groaned a sigh and dropped his head into his hands with a chuckle again. “Don’t s’pose it’s too late for  _ me _ to tap out and find another room, huh?”

“Nope!” Angela chirped brightly, dropping to the couch beside him and laying an arm over his shoulders. “You’re stuck with me now, friend! Roomie! Now… this coffee maker?” She waited until Jesse pushed himself up from the couch with a nod, before she let off her parting shot. “Do you want a minute to check the closet for any other amorous displays, first.”

She giggled as the cowboy’s steps faltered and he raised his hands to cover his face with a groaned laugh.

“Come on,” she leapt up from the couch and grabbed at his elbow, tugging him toward his bedroom, “I want to see this coffee maker! I think it and I are going to end up being better friends than you and Max!”

“Are you ever gonna let me live this down?” McCree mumbled, but he already knew how she’d respond.

“Nope!” She shook her head with a wide grin. “Never in a hundred years!”

 

\---

 

“Like this?” Angela’s face frowned in concentration. It was unfamiliar, and it felt a little odd in her hands.

“N- not exactly,” McCree reached over to reposition her hands a little bit. “It’s- you want a firm grip, but not white-knuckled. Don’t wanna choke it.”

“Is there much risk of that?” She raised an eyebrow and he chuckled.

“Not  _ literally, _ doc, but you know what I mean.”

“It’s…” she dropped her eyes to her hands. “It is  _ very _ large.”

“Yeah, well,” McCree shrugged with a grin and a chuckle, unable to resist the easy joke “thanks, doc. Man can’t hear that often enough.”

“I bet  _ Max _ thinks as much as well!” Her eyes narrowed as she shot the cowboy a smirk.

McCree groaned and dropped his head forward until his chin struck his chest, and he pressed a hand into his forehead. “S’pose I asked for that one, didn’t I?” He sighed as Angela giggled and nodded, and he shook his head with a soft chuckle.

_ “Anyway,” _ he urged, continuing with their lesson. “I wouldn’t worry ‘bout the size of it. I’m sure yours won’t be as hefty as the Peacekeeper here.”

“I should  _ hope _ not!” She lowered the weapon and rested it on her lap - muzzle pointed away from them both, her first instruction. “I’m not sure I could even  _ hold _ this thing for a whole range assessment. Forget about  _ firing _ it.”

“When d’you get yours?” McCree raised an eyebrow.

Angela shrugged. “Within the next few days, apparently. It’s supposed to be small, low-recoil, energy rather than projectile.”

“Makes sense,” the cowboy muttered softly with a slight frown. “Which case, the Peacekeeper probably ain’t good practice anyway so we won’t bother with any handling or anything like that quite yet. C’n still give you a few pointers, though.”

He reached out and plucked up the revolver from where it sat on her knee, and held it out at the ready to fire. “For starters, movement. It ain’t as simple as just turnin’ - for instance, here.”

McCree swung his head around suddenly, looking sharply over his shoulder. “Shit, there’s a baddie, I’ve gotta-” he started to twist his body with the seeming intent of pointing his gun that way, but then he mimicked a gunshot with his mouth and clutched at his arm. “Ahh! I been hit!”

“Oh no!” Angela gasped, playing along with the scene. “Quickly! Somebody call a docto- oh, right,” she laughed, “that’s me!”

Jesse laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah yeah, that’s cute doc, but you see what I mean?” He raised an eyebrow to her before holding the Peacekeeper at the ready again and looking down its sights. “When you move,” he instructed, shifting over so she could watch over his shoulder. He twisted slightly left and right, and as he did, the barrel of the revolver moved first.

“Lead your turns with your weapon, just a little. You never want to see a target and be unable to take the shot - always be sure your gun’s there  _ first. _ You don’t need eyes to shoot, but you  _ do _ need a line from the barrel.”

She nodded, understanding but also really hoping it wouldn’t be important. That didn’t exactly seem  _ defensive, _ anyway, but she still appreciated that he was trying to ensure she was skilled.

“That makes sense, although I still hope I don’t need to shoot anybody.”

“Well, I’m with you there, doc.” McCree shrugged and spun the revolver around, catching it by the barrel and offering her the grip. “Truth be told I hope the same for myself. Still, you’ll need to pass your range test to get in the field, and honestly, doc, the idea of bein’ out there  _ without _ you? Ain’t exactly a great one. You bein’ there means more people are gonna make it home, and that’s a good thing.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” she nodded with a smile, taking the revolver from her friend. It still felt a little bit odd, a little bit wrong - weapons had a weight to them, both physical and otherwise. They were heavy and they felt so  _ solid, _ and she supposed that was fitting. Their actions tended to be quite absolute. “I just don’t know why they need to go and make the range test so strenuous.”

The cowboy let out a chuckle. “I reckon it’s ‘cause they want as many people comin’ home as possible.”

“If they put the money they’d devoted toward those drones into armour instead - or development of energy shields, maybe! Something based off of the Crusader technology; I know Winston’s been working on it.” Her words ended up being more of a protest than she intended them to be.

“Yeah, yeah he has,” McCree conceded, “but for how long now? Hasn’t been successful yet - and if he is, that’ll be great. Time bein’ though, sometimes survival means being quicker on the trigger than the other guy.”

It was silent for a second as Angela frowned. “I don’t like it,” she huffed, and McCree chuckled and patted a hand on her shoulder.

“I know you don’t, doc, and I don’t either. Don’t need to like the world to see how it is, in my opinion - it ain’t ideal, but it’s what we got at the moment. As soon as Winston gets that shield project working, you can bet yourself that I’ll be the first one right behind him.”

She sighed, nodding. “Except we can already just hide behind walls and stay safe, can’t we?”

“That’s one way of lookin’ at it, doc, and I can’t say it’s wrong. Shields better’n a wall, we can take it out there and bring some protection to the people, but I think - time bein’, at least - there’s always gonna come a time when we gotta leap out from behind that barrier and make a move.”

Angela’s frown deepened. “I don’t like it,” she grumped, and she liked even less that it was becoming harder and harder to deny than it had been. They said youth had its naivete and she knew that was true, but it had seemed simpler back in the hospital.

Now, here, surrounded by soldiers - the world was set up with so much war  _ in _ it, she was starting to wonder if the war could ever be extricated. If eventually a tumor could become so widespread that it couldn’t be excised.

If that happened, what was the course of action then?

She didn’t know.

Jesse saw the sad look on her face, and plucked the revolver from her hand to slip back into his holster. “C’mon, Ange, let’s go grab a snack or somethin’. Maybe go check out the range and the drones, watch a couple others run through it - then you’ll know exactly what you need to be able to do. I promise you, if you don’t want, I want teach you a thing more than what you need to stay qualified for the field.”

“Thank you, Jesse,” she sighed, leaning forward to give him a quick hug before they stood from the couch. “I- I really  _ do _ like the idea of being skilled enough that I could consistently incapacitate rather than risking death. It just seems like it might be quite a journey to get there, and I’m… I think…”

When she trailed off into silence, he picked up off of the sentence with a shrug. “...and you’re a little worried that somewhere along the way, you might end up a little less concerned with it all, huh?” She nodded and he chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, doc, I wouldn’t worry about that overly. Don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who I’d trust more when it comes to needless killin’ or needless harm. You’d put that Hippocrat guy to shame.”

“Hippocrates,” she corrected with a soft giggle as they exited the quarters, “but thank you. It’s nice to know that you have such faith in me!”

 

\---

 

It had been about a week, and Angela was sitting, awake, with the desk lamp on as she pored over research documents. She could feel that she was on the edge of a breakthrough here, and Jesse’s coffee was going to fuel her through it.

Even if she knew it wasn’t the most healthy to drink several litres of it. Distantly it occurred to her that she should do an analysis of it to ensure she didn’t get close to legitimately dangerous levels of caffeine intake, but she was also half-certain that she was now immune to that anyway.

Things had actually been quite easy to adjust to, and good overall. They shared a surprising amount of humour, and talking with him was always easy when he was around. When their schedules aligned, they tended to grab meals together as well - which didn’t happen often, but it was enjoyable when it did.

The door slid back with a groan - not a groan from it, but rather from the man standing outside of it - and Jesse stepped through, limping.

“Hey, doc,” he grumbled, throwing his hat toward the coffee table where it caught on the corner. “Funny way you have of sleeping, sittin’ up at a desk with the light on. That get you lots of rest?”

“Mm, loads,” she responded idly with a smirk, not glancing up from her computer quite yet. As McCree collapsed heavily to the couch, though, she did glance over.

His cape was torn, blood streaked down his face and his arm, and one pant leg was soaked and glistening with what she suspected was also blood. She leapt out of the desk chair and jumped over to him. “You’re hurt! You need to go to Medical.”

“I need a nap is what I need,” he grumbled, “or some coffee. Three in the morning’s too early to get shot, without coffee.”

“Oh, but  _ with _ coffee it’s a perfectly acceptable time?” Angela quipped wryly as she stretched back toward the desk, snatching a steaming mug off of it. Jesse pushed himself upright and took it with a sigh.

“Thought you’d already know, doc, that with coffee  _ anything’s _ acceptable.” He tipped the mug back as she laid her hands on his arm and started to inspect him.

“These look like knife wounds,” she muttered, and he nodded with a grunt. “Why didn’t you go get patched up?”

“I’ll get it in the mornin’,” he grumbled into the mug. “Ange, please tell me you got more o’ this ‘cause right now it might be the only thing keepin’ me alive.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Nonsense. It would take more than a few little gashes,” she dropped his arm and peered at his face, “and some bruises and a blunt-force laceration…” her eyes flicked to his leg and the blood it had smeared on the couch, “...and a bullet wound to the thigh, in order to kill somebody as stubborn as you.”

He laughed, dropping his head to rest against the couch’s back. “Mm, forgot a uh-” he shifted a little, gesturing weakly at his side with a strained grunt, “-bit of shrapnel in the back and the side there.”

“Oh of course, how foolish of me to forget,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re  _ lucky _ I can’t leave my work in the office, Jesse.”

“Figure I’m lucky for about a thousand things, Ange,” he sighed, downing the rest of the coffee. “Great coffee, thanks.”

She was standing already and took the mug from his hand with a grunt, dropping it onto the desk with a grunt as she turned to rifle through a bag hung off the back of the chair. She came back with a jar of thick yellow goop.

“No.”

“Jesse.” She crossed her arms. “You need treatment.”

“I said no, doc!” He protested, leaning away from her. “That shit’s  _ cold! _ Makes me feel all tingly!”

“Mm, death’s colder.” It was a simple assessment, delivered with a smirk as she screwed the lid off of the jar. “After this, I’m taking you down to Medical and getting you fixed up right.”

“But I’m  _ tired! _ Can’t I just go in the morning?”

She dipped a finger into the goo and smeared it along his cheekbone where the skin had been split by (probably) a fist. McCree hissed at the sensation and Zeigler rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to be a baby about the biotic gel, then I’m taking you to Medical  _ right now.” _

“Awww, do I have to?” He snickered, shaking his head and pushing himself off of the couch. “Ah, alright. I’d make some joke about baby wanting his bottle, but after whatever Captain Amari gave me out of her hip flask I don’t think I should be drinkin’ any more.”

“I  _ thought _ you sounded even less coherent than normal,” Angela smirked, pulling one of the cowboy’s arms around her shoulders and helping to support his weight. “Come on then, let’s get you all patched up.”

“We gonna start with a sponge bath?” The boot on his injured leg dragged along the hallway and he tried to pick it up more, but everything felt pretty numb.

“Sure. I’ll call Max for you.”

Jesse groaned and Angela laughed as she helped him down the hallway toward the medical bay.

 

\---

 

They quickly fell into routines. Their schedules were quite different, but they made sure the coffee maker was always full and hot regardless. Sometimes Jesse came back injured and Angela had to do a bit of work to get him fixed up - even things as simple as cramped muscles or applying band-aids.

One favourite incident of hers entailed him running in in tears, whimpering, clutching a hand to his chest. She’d rushed over in open concern, taking his arm and pulling it gently toward herself, prepared for the worst.

What she saw, instead, was a quite nasty papercut. Nasty for a papercut, at least - a little tiny bit of blood seeping out of it.

“It  _ really _ hurt,” Jesse complained as she smoothed a bandaid over it with a smirk.

“Awww,” she pouted mockingly, “do you want me to kiss it better?”

He’d nodded with a pout and she’d laughed, kissing the bandaid with a roll of her eyes.

Other times, Angela would refuse to sleep and the other medical staff would call Jesse to intervene - or she’d push things too far and end up asleep at her desk, and he’d need to swing by and pick her up and carry her back to their quarters.

They watched movies together, every Tuesday and Friday. Old Westerns, usually - an unsurprising long-standing favourite of McCree’s, and one that Angela was surprised to find she liked as much as she did. There was often a lot of anti-violence sentiment to them, or at least anti-killing: the protagonists in their white hats seemed so fond of trick shots, hitting the black-hatted bad guys in the hand or the leg instead of the chest. At least sometimes.

The pair of them would cuddle up on the couch beneath a crocheted blanket McCree had got from somewhere. They’d get a bowl of popcorn, he’d have a glass of whiskey often and she’d have a couple of glasses of wine, and sometimes she’d drift off before the movie was over and end up drooling on his shoulder. One time, they both drifted off, to wake up there in the morning with sore necks and self-mocking laughter.

Right now, they sat like that - his feet on the ground, Angela’s pulled up onto the couch beside her - under the thick rainbow-coloured blanket. On the holoscreen, a gunslinger who wanted to leave that life but didn’t know how was standing in front of a massive blacksmith. They trained their revolvers on each other, and then, the gunslinger dropped his to the side.

“No! Jack, don’t do it!” Angela called out, holding a glass of white in both hands. McCree held out a piece of popcorn for her to eat. She tensed up into a ball and munched the bit of popcorn as the blacksmith held his revolver a little higher, taking aim at the gunslinger.

“Ah, he’s gotta be smarter’n that, right?” Jesse frowned at the screen. Jack - the blacksmith - had been portrayed as big and maybe not too booksmart, but also as a pretty good man… but, Jesse had to admit, he’d been wrong on a thing or two before.

Angela turned to him in horror. “You mean you don’t  _ know? _ I thought you’d seen this one before!”

“No, no, it-” McCree shrugged, “uh, Cap’n Amari was talkin’ about it, ‘parrently her daughter liked it? Some classic Canadian thing, I don’t know, but-”

“WHAT IF IT ENDS BADLY!” Angela smacked the cowboy’s shoulder repeatedly. “Jesse! What if it ends really badly? What if Jack shoots him!”

“W-he won’t! Ange! I don’t-” Jesse raised an arm, laughing and trying to fend off the doctor’s slaps. “I’m sorry! I’ll watch ‘em first next time so I know they’ll be happy!”

“You’d better!” Angela hit him again with a grunt, and then looked toward the screen again where the tension was rising. The love interest (a widowed farmer) stood in fear off to the side, an almost-teary gunslinger telling her that he couldn’t leave it all behind but he refused to keep killing, and trying to urge the blacksmith to shoot.

Then, all the tension snapped as it turned out that the revolver in question was jammed and wouldn’t fire anyway. Angela and Jesse both laughed as the gunslinger rolled his eyes and took the weapon, prodding at it and trying to get it to work.

“That was a close one!” Angela giggled, sipping at her wine again as the two men on screen shared consternation over the revolver. Jesse laughed as well, nodding his agreement, but froze suddenly when there was a gunshot from the screen - the revolver discharged, the bullet ricocheting and hitting the blacksmith in the butt.

They both cackled as the gunslinger nervously rubbed at his neck in the doctor’s house, the blacksmith on the table shouting red-faced while the gunslinger tried to apologize - to him, to the doctor, and to the farmer widow who he was helping with the farm.

They settled into the couch as the film continued, happy and content with their routine. Angela’s computer and papers sat off to the side on the desk which she had somewhat taken over as her own, and Jesse’s Peacekeeper hung on a hook on the wall alongside his hat.

For a while, at least, they were both able to put aside their work and just enjoy time alone with a friend.

 

\---

 

A few days later, Jesse was flipping through some reports on the couch as Angela sat at the desk, working. It was getting toward the evening and he was hoping to polish off the last of his work to have an uninterrupted night, and Angela, well, she  _ never _ finished with work. It was only ever a temporary setting-aside.

There was a knock at the door and he glanced over. The doctor kept working, oblivious, and he pushed himself up with a curious noise and gestured the door open.

“Hansen?” McCree raised an eyebrow - he knew the woman, at least peripherally. She was one of the botanical biologists, involved in some project to increase yields in drought-resistant crops. He didn’t know much, though; just tidbits through the grapevine. She was friends with one of the people he hooked up with sometimes.

“Oh, hi, um…” she smiled to him, then it shifted a little to a frown as she tried to remember his name and her mouth formed soundless vowels.

“McCree,” he provided, offering a hand. “Jesse McCree, pleased to make yer acquaintance - uh, somethin’ I can help you with?”

“Of course! Jesse, McCree, yeah,” she laughed, “I mean, Hannah talks about you a lot, and um, yeah, yes, maybe, um,” she cleared her throat, brushing a stray strand of green-dyed hair behind her ear. “You’re-” she leaned in a bit, still in the hallway, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re friends with Doctor Zeigler, right?”

“Hello, I am Doctor Zeigler,” Angela called from the desk with a wave, not looking up.

Hansen squeaked, blushing and recoiling from the door wide-eyed, and McCree chuckled. “Think you might have a uh…” he raised an eyebrow to Hansen, sizing up the situation (which didn’t take long), “a dinner request here, doc?” Hanses nodded a little, blush deepening impressively for her darker skintone.

“Mm, well I’m busy tonight, so whoever it is they’ll need to book an appointment,” Angela muttered, reaching mechanically for her coffee mug. Jesse couldn’t suppress a snicker - he’d seen this before, almost a fugue state she entered sometimes, half-conscious more than actually sentient. He suspected that if he looked close, every note she’d taken would be gibberish. “Who is it, anyway?”

“H-Hansen! Kelly Hansen, f-from Botany,” the shorter biologist called out, urged on by McCree’s encouraging nod. “I j- um, I just think you’re really great? And um, wanted to t- um, talk, or, you know, whatever?” She forced a laugh. “And um, you’re really p-pretty, too.”

Angela nodded slowly, heavily, pendulously. Her head looked like it wanted to stay down with every motion, but something - probably coffee - brought it back up again. “Mm, Hansen, the cute one with the blue hair.”

“It’s green now,” McCree mentioned with a smirk.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Angela sighed softly, rubbing at her eyes. “Is it about a project?”

McCree bit his lips together to stifle a laugh at the look on Hansen’s face, and he offered her an apologetic look. “I uh,” he cleared his throat, taking a step forward to lay a comforting hand on Hansen’s shoulder as she buried her face in her hands. “I think it might be a mite more’n that, Ange.”

“Mmm,” Angela nodded, “well, that could be nice as well. If you see her again, tell her to leave me a message and I’d be happy to schedule something up.”

Jesse let out a much smaller laugh, patting Hansen on the shoulder and stepping out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him to cut her off from the source of her obvious embarrassment. “Ange’d be delighted to get together for some dinner. Presuming she remembers any o’ this - but, don’t worry, Kelly, I got your back on this one.”

“Thanks,” she groaned, leaning forward until her forehead rested against his shoulder. “Ugh, Hannah was saying you’re good at this stuff. I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Yeah,” McCree murmured softly, wrapping an arm around her in a gentle hug, “and forgot your best friend’s boyfriend’s name, too.” Kelly whimpered a little and he laughed, patting her on the back. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Kelly - ain’t like we ever met face to face before! B’sides, guess Hannah and I ain’t too close anyway.”

“I still should’ve remembered your name,” she grumbled under her breath. He shrugged as she stood upright, rubbing at her face with a heavy sigh.

“Bah, what’s in a name, right? A rose by any other name and all that,” he waved a hand. “Water under the bridge, anyway.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Hansen sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead and turning to leave. “I’m just gonna go bury myself in peat moss now, thanks.”

“Alright,” he waved after her with a laugh. “When you dig yerself free, be sure to shoot the doc a message! I’d suggest, plan for Wednesday. She always gets excited like a schoolkid about meatloaf night.”

Hansen hurried off down the hallway with a grateful wave and a squeak, rushing through the light crowd of people, and Jesse watched her go for a second with a grin before he turned and re-entered the quarters.

Angela was laying face-down on the desk when he entered, snoring lightly, but when the door slid shut behind him she shot bolt upright. “Jesse!” She looked over, with  a frown. “Who was that at the door?”

“Ahh, nobody,” he waved a hand, then snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Hey, isn’t this Wednesday meatloaf night?”

Her blue eyes lit up with joy and she clapped excitedly. “Oooh, meatloaf night! Is it really? Delicious - oh, I’m so looking forward to it!”

Jesse chuckled through a grin as he shuffled back over and sank into the couch once more, picking up the tablet and returning to his reports. “Good! Good - sadly, I won’t be able to join ya, Ange, sorry. But hey,” he glanced up to her pout with a smirk, “I’m sure another opportunity’ll present itself…”

 

\---

 

“Alright,” Commander Jack Morrison cleared his throat, giving Doctor Zeigler a little nod. “Weapons live, doctor. The range is yours - transit from here to the objective, eliminate hostile forces; you will be graded on accuracy, time, and hits received. Any questions before we begin?”

She glanced up, nervously, to where Jesse stood in the observer booth alongside Gabriel Reyes, the head of Blackwatch, and Captain Amari as well. Reyes offered her a nod of the head and a little smile, Captain Amari simply watched, and Jesse offered her a goofy grin and a huge thumbs-up.

“No, I don’t believe so,” Angela shook her head. “Although I think it would be a fairer test for field operations if I could use my Valkyrie suit.”

“Well, I don’t disagree, doctor,” he chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “However, the rules are what they are. Good luck, Angela - I’m really rooting for you on this. It would be a big hit to lose you off the roster because of a technicality.”

She nodded with a huff, but she could see in his eyes that he meant it - a little bit wrist-bound by regulations, but trying his best. That was probably the best way she could describe Jack Morrison.

With an assertive nod, she pulled out her sidearm and he stepped back and closed the door. A small elevator brought him up to join the other three.

“I hope she does well,” he muttered as he went to join them at the glass.

“She’s never demonstrated any sort of proficiency with this before,” Amari pointed out - not as a judgement, just as an observation. “Nor any interest.”

“She’ll do great,” Jesse assured with a grin, leaning forward against the glass, supporting himself by one forearm up above his head. “Trust me.”

Below them, in the range - which was half obstacle course and half combat simulation, really - Angela was preparing herself. She breathed and stretched a little, sidearm in hand, trying to remember all of the things Jesse had taught her. All of the little lessons throughout their practice sessions.

She’d become comfortable with holding the weapon, and they’d made many trips to the practice range - a more standard sort of affair with targets in a long room - and she knew she’d improved. Very much so, in fact.

The fact that her gun almost  _ felt _ like a toy did help a little bit, but she couldn’t let herself forget what it was, and she had a goal today. Not just to win, but to prove a  _ point. _

Sometimes, her own determination got her in trouble.

A determined grin set on her lips as the alarm sounded, her teeth glinting in the light below the goggles she wore. She set off, jogging lightly with her weapon held at the ready.

A drone popped out beside her and up above, and she twisted, leading with her pistol just the way he’d taught her. She sighted in quickly and squeezed the trigger lightly rather than jerking it, and grinned as the drone’s weapon exploded but the  _ drone _ didn’t.

Back up in the observation room, Gabriel Reyes stood up a little straighter. Ana Amari didn’t shift. Jack Morrison leaned forward in dawning confusion. “What is she…”

As they watched, the same thing played out five more times - three ranged drones, their weapons exploded; two melee ones with shock batons met similar fates as well. One lost its baton and the other had its hover-drive catastrophically damaged as Angela rolled to the side to avoid a strike and took the shot it offered.

“Hell of a display,” Reyes muttered softly, stroking at his chin below a smirk. McCree laughed and nodded, his grin as wide as his face.

She didn’t set the fastest time. She didn’t set the highest accuracy - although she was very close, behind only two names: Ana Amari and Jesse McCree, in that order. What Angela Zeigler  _ did _ manage to do, however, was be the first person ever through the course without destroying a single drone.

McCree applauded loudly as the little elevator delivered them down to the ground floor where she stood at the end-point, panting lightly and grinning like a fool. She ran over and jumped into his arms with a squeal and he spun her around, laughing.

“I did it! I did it, Jesse, I-”

“Hell yeah you did, Ange! Knew you would - never had a single doubt in you!”

Morrison chuckled, shaking his head softly as the doctor stood on her own two feet again and turned to him. “Well, there’s no two ways about that, Doctor. Congratulations - I look forward to seeing it again in a month!”

“Thank you, Jack,” she nodded happily, shaking his hand. “I’m… quite honestly, glad to have had the opportunity to test my capabilities. I still hope I’ll never need to use them-”

“Agreed, Doctor,” he interjected with a nod. “I hope you never do either. If everything else is going right, you should never need to draw a weapon - but it’s good to know that, if you  _ do _ need to, you can use it.”

“I’ll say she can,” Reyes muttered thoughtfully, grinning a little, and even Amari’s lips quirked into a bit of a smirk.

“Always room for improvement,” the Arabic woman muttered with a soft chuckle, “but, perhaps, sometimes… not  _ much.” _

Angela didn’t really care about any of that. The important part to her was that she would still be allowed in the field, still allowed to help out actively on the missions, and now - with Jesse’s help - she could be quite comfortable in the knowledge that she’d never  _ need _ to kill somebody.

She was sure real combat - if it occurred - would be quite different than the practice range, yes, but at least this was something she could move forward with.

“I got you a congratulations cupcake back at the room,” McCree mentioned as he led her out of the range after she’d dropped off her weapon and safety gear.

“Oh? And what if I’d failed, hmm?”

The cowboy shrugged. “Then I guess it woulda been a consolation cupcake!”

They both laughed as they headed through the halls back toward their room.

 

\---

 

They were halfway through a movie one Friday night, when a soft alarm sounded and Jesse sighed.

“Damn,” he muttered, pushing himself off the couch and pausing the movie. “I’ll be back in uh… eventually. Sorry, Ange.”

“Quite alright,” she waved him off, taking a sip of wine as he gathered his hat and his revolver. “You’ll be back when you are. Be safe! I don’t have any stitches on hand tonight.”

“Ugh, that means it’d be the gel,” McCree groaned as he buckled on his Peacekeeper.

“Mm, and I know you don’t want that, so be safe,” Angela smirked shamelessly to him.

“Well, in  _ that _ case,” he grumbled, “I guess I’ll be safe. See ya in a bit, Ange.”

They waved as he stepped out of the door, and she sat at the couch for another minute or two - long enough to finish her glass of wine - before she went to his room and got a pair of steaming mugs of coffee (both for herself) before sitting at the desk and tugged her computer over.

McCree came back three and a half hours later, at two in the morning. Angela was tapping away on one thing while scrolling through a tablet with the other hand, and the movie was still paused on the screen. Jesse threw his hat off to the side, dropped his Peacekeeper onto the table, and collapsed onto the couch with a sigh.

“How come bodyguards in Kosovo gotta be so mean?” He raised an eyebrow to Angela, but it hurt with how severely bruised that whole area was and he hissed as she pulled out the jar of biotic gel with a roll of her eyes.

“You probably said something to deserve it,” she snickered.

“Hey!” He crossed his arms, pouting. “I’m a angel, I’ll have you know. Everybody loves me.”

“Mmm,  _ sure _ they do,” Angela sighed softly before giggling, spreading a light layer of the gel over his bruised and slightly bloody orbital region. “Now, shall we carry on with the movie?”

“Yes please,” he groaned, pulling his glass of whiskey over and refilling it as Angela sat down next to him and pulled her feet up onto the couch. “Need  _ something _ to take my mind of this tingly sting.”

“Well, if you got punched less, then you wouldn’t need as much of the gel,” Angela explained haughtily, smirking at Jesse’s shock as she refilled her wine glass.

“W-  _ I _ get punched and yet it’s still my fault?” He laughed as she tugged the blanket over them and started the movie playing again, rewinding it a few minutes as a reminder. “Well, I never. Quite the theory there, Ange.”

She hummed a little, tipping her head to the side in confusion. “Hmm. Tell me, Jesse - why do they call it a  _ smart _ mouth, when it’s such a stupid choice?”

He laughed and she grinned widely, delightedly, settling in to finish off the rest of the movie. She grabbed up the popcorn bowl from beside herself and held out a handful to Jesse. “Your hands are all dirty, no touching the popcorn.”

“Sure, mom,” he grumbled as he ate the popcorn out of her hand with a roll of his eyes. He had to admit, it was a hell of a lot better than coming home to an empty place and a cold couch, and he didn’t even mind the stingy tingle of the biotic goo. It was better in the morning, anyway.

Better in every way, pretty much.

 

\---

 

“Well, I suppose all good things must come to an end,” Angela sighed, hiking her duffel bag up higher on her shoulder and looking down at the memo. Her new quarters were ready - it was time to move out.

“Yeah,” McCree grumbled, “s’pose I’ll be seein’ you around then, eh doc?”

“Oh, well of course you will,” she grinned. “Today’s Friday, after all - if you think you’re getting out of watching movies with me so easily, you’ll need to think again!”

He laughed cheerily, sounding quite relieved as he leaned against the doorframe leading into the quarters. She stood outside in the hallway with a smile, and he nodded to her happily. “Sounds like a good plan to me there, doc. Lookin’ forward to it - hey, lemme know where your new place is, will ya? I’ll bring you a housewarming gift.”

She laughed and waved, stepping backward into the hallway, a little reticent to say goodbye to it all. Still, it was what it was, and it would be nice to have a whole set of quarters to herself - more space, and space she didn’t need to worry about sharing or accidentally taking over - even if it meant she might not get to spend as much time with her friend.

Her eyes flicked down to the memo in her hands again and she tapped the button; the memo gave way to a little map of the facility, a dot on it showing her new accommodations. Angela frowned down at the screen.

Raising an eyebrow, she glanced up, took a huge step forward across the hallway, and looked at the door there. 273k. Her new quarters.

She spun around with an eyebrow arched high to see Jesse McCree standing in the hallway with a bottle of wine. “Well hey! I gotcha a housewarming gift!’

Angela laughed brightly, taking the wine with a grin and waving her ID card in front of the reader; the door slid open and she stepped in, leaning against the doorway. “Pulled a few more strings then, did we, Mr. McCree?”

He shrugged with a grin, rubbing at his neck a little. “Ahh, I mighta nudged some plans one way or another. I just figured, y’know… the coffee machine might get lonely without you.”

“Oh,  _ right _ , the coffee machine,” she giggled softly, smiling and nodding as she met his eyes. “Well, thank you. I’d get lonely without the  _ coffee machine _ , too.”

“Not to mention probably narcoleptic at this point,” McCree muttered and she smacked at his arm with a gasp and a laugh.

She always did love what got changed around during rearranging time at Overwatch...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For starters! This is canonical for my longer fic Both Sides Now - this is the backstory for that story, so when it talks about Mercy and McCree being old friends, this is what BSN is talking about!
> 
> So, I based a couple of things in this off of little details from the game. I watched a video about the animations in Overwatch, it was long and really cool, and delved into how the individual characters' various animations (for things like reloading, running, etc.) play into their characterization. Zen's movements are very balanced, snappy but still organic; Sym's are all fluid and graceful; Jack's are efficient and practiced; Junkrat's are chaotic. One thing that was pointed out was how people turned - Mei's gun kinda floats all over the place when she turns or when she stands there, because she's not a soldier. Jack, more trained, has a lot more precision with his weapon.
> 
> An interesting thing they noted - McCree leads his turns with his weapon. The barrel of his Peacekeeper just barely nudges in the direction of the turn, so his gun is always on target first, and here's the thing: _so does Mercy's!_ So then I started thinking... she's a pacifist. She wouldn't carry a gun by choice - which means she needed to carry it. That means it was regulated, so there was probably a test, so she probably sought out teaching, and who would you seek out? The guy with an assault rifle? The one who dual-wields shotguns? No, you'd find the one other person who uses a sidearm - McCree with his Peacekeeper, and get him to instruct you!
> 
> So that was the nucleus for this story. Just as an idea of how much stories expand for me. Second note: I wrote this in basically a day. I was doing something else for this prompt but then realized (with the help of some friends) that it probably deserved/needed some more development and backstory than I could give it in such a short space. So, yesterday, I started writing this.
> 
> It takes me a very long time to write short things. I get so distracted so easily, folks.
> 
> Anyway! I hope you liked this little story about a couple of unlikely friends! I wanted to write more and one day maybe I will, but this is this for now!


	18. Mission: Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela and Fareeha are out on a mission, helping to evacuate some refugees, when a chance encounter leaves them stuck in a locked and dark room. Luckily, Angela's got a little survival kit and there are some candles in there. Less luckily? Well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! Another one from me, Jrade - shorter this time, just a few thousand words. Hope you like it!

Pharah’s hawkish eyes flicked around the battlefield - an explosion to the side knocked a hole in a wall and enemy combatants started to pour through.

“Not on my watch,” she muttered under her breath and the hectic symphony of battle, her words fading almost instantly into the chorus of gunshots and explosions and shouts from below, as well as the sound of her own jets.

Nothing could wash the smirk off of her face, though, as her arm snapped out and launched off a concussive rocket. It flung the hostiles back through their hole, and the blast wave even collapsed the hole enough to leave them clearing rubble rather than rushing through.

“Almost clear,” a voice came over her comm unit - Reinhardt, at one of the dropships, helping load evacuees into the ships. “We will take off as soon as you- oh, oh no. Pharah! Mercy! Quickly!”

She spun around in mid-air, floating on her jets, and looked down to the man in his massive suit of armour far below. He was pointing at something and her eyes snapped that way, flicking past a pair of golden wings as they did.

It was a swarm of missiles or bombs, or maybe artillery shells - she didn’t know or even really care.

“Take off, now!” Her command sent instantly to the pilots in the dropships and they complied - the engines were already running and spun up, the ships hovering a few inches off of the ground. These were the steps they took when running an evacuation from an active warzone.

Pharah grabbed at Mercy’s hand and throttled up her own jets, pulling the medic quickly through the air toward the ground.

“Where are we-”

“Can’t get clear in time,” Pharah muttered, kicking in a door, “but there was a shelter in this building that Reinhardt and I noticed earlier, we’ll be safe in it.”

“Good!” Mercy sounded a little breathless, but chipper as well. “Safe is what I like to be when explosions are incoming.”

Pharah smirked as she tugged the blonde inside, a light turning on on her helmet and illuminating the way forward. “See? We’ve been friends for years, we've been together for months, and I’m still learning new things about you.”

“I daresay you could have  _ guessed _ at that one, Fari,” Mercy giggled softly as the soldier knelt down and grabbed a large, thick hatch and yanked it open.

“Mm, maybe,” she shrugged, flashing a grin up to Angela. “Now, hold on.” She stood up and pulling Mercy in close, the doctor’s slim but strong arms wrapping her up in a secure embrace. Pharah stepped to the side and hit her jets, the tips of the wings of her Raptora suit just scraping the edges of the vertical shaft that led downward. She pulled the hatch closed overtop of them and gave it a twist, locking it. “Going down,” she called out with a chuckle as she throttled her jets back and let the pair of them start to sink, one arm wrapped behind Mercy’s back.

“Mmm, promises promises,” Angela purred over the sound of jet exhaust, stroking a finger along Pharah’s cheek and bringing a bit of a blush to it, at which she giggled triumphantly. “Yes! I win!”

“Yeah yeah, this round maybe,” Pharah muttered through a grin. “I’m gonna chalk it up to being distracted by saving our lives.”

“Oh, chalk it up to whatever you like, Fari,” Angela giggled again, squeezing her a little tighter. “It still counts!”

The soldier grumbled something to the effect of “shut up” but it was through such a huge grin (made visible only by Pharah’s flashlight and exhaust reflecting off of the narrow walls of the chute) that Angela only laughed all the harder for it.

They touched the ground a few seconds later, as a deep rumbling boom enveloped the space. They rushed over to a wall, crouched down, and held each other for a moment, huddling as everything shook.

Then it was over.

“I’ll check the hatch,” Pharah muttered, and her jets filled the small space with light and heat and noise and pressure. Mercy covered her head and face with her arms as best she could, turning away as Pharah shot up the shaft.

At the top, the hatch was stuck. Pharah grabbed on it and twisted sharply, bracing her shoulder against the wall for more leverage and even raising a leg to try to push off of a pipe, but the pipe snapped before the hatch's lock would open up.

Pharah wouldn't give up that easily though. She descended to the bottom of the shaft again and knelt, training her rocket launcher up toward the hatch.

“Um, Fari?”

“Stay back, Angie,” Pharah said without looking over. “I'm  _ getting _ this thing open.”

“I - I think-”

Pharah squeezed the trigger, a high-explosive rocket streaking up the shaft and light her sharp grin with its flames. The explosion was swift and decisive.

As was the shower of rubble it sent down. 

Pharah threw an arm over her head, but it didn’t quite manage to block  _ all _ of the truly impressive amount of rock and concrete chunks that tumbled down on her. She wasn’t injured, just buffeted a little, but her flashlight started flickering dangerously and a few damage indicators popped up on her Raptora’s HUD.

She turned back to Angela with a hesitant smile - Angela, who was standing there with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“I think,” the doctor reiterated, clearing her throat slightly with a smirk in the flickering flashlight glow, “that you might want to be careful about detonating rockets, inside, like this.”

“You know, that is a good point,” Pharah nodded, her feet mostly buried in rubble. She shuffled to free them, rocks shifting to make way. “I will take that… under advisement, yeah.”

Angela giggled slightly as the light faded even more and Fareeha pulled her helmet off. “Well,” the soldier sighed, “I guess we’re stuck here until Reinhardt comes back and digs us out. Not exactly my finest, smartest moment.”

“Do you think so?” Angela gave her a kiss on the dusty cheek. “I hadn’t noticed!”

Fareeha grumbled a little, smirking, and reached for a bag that hung from Angie’s belt. “Well, at least we’ve got our survival kit. Doubt we’ll need it or anything, but I’m kind of hungry and this light doesn’t look-”

Fortuitously, the flashlight chose that moment to flicker out and then stay there, plunging them into total darkness. Fareeha sighed heavily.  _ Such a dumbass sometimes, Amari. _ “Doesn’t look like it’ll last too much longer.”

She was surprised when a hand suddenly caught the back of her head, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling her forward - Angie’s lips pressed to hers quickly, firmly, without the slightest hesitation or pause and Fareeha chuckled deep in her throat as she leaned into the kiss and tipped her head off to the side.

“Mmm,” Angela hummed a sigh through her nose, licking her lips slightly - dust from the collapse had mostly covered Fari’s face, and had transferred a little. “Dusty, but still good.”

Fareeha chuckled, one hand still on the bag that held the little survival kit, and she zipped it open with a goofy grin hidden in the darkness. “Well, in that case, I’ll rub more dust on my lips.” Angela laughed as the soldier pulled out a pair of candles and a lighter - getting something to see by was the most important part.

The lighter’s flame cast a blue glow, not very far - fairly harsh light, but when she lit the candles and dropped the lighter back into the bag, the glow softened.

Angela looked absolutely gorgeous in the soft, warm, yellowish glow, and Fareeha felt her heart skip a beat. It did the same again as a slow grin blossomed across Angie’s lips, her eyes widening a bit as she looked back.

Fareeha was so beautiful in the candlelight - it shimmered in her silky hair and glinted off of the golden baubles there, and made her face look so warm and welcoming. Even if it was a little dusty. Angela raised a hand and brushed at Fari’s cheek, the soldier twisting her head slightly to kiss at her fingers and Angela giggled softly.

“It’s nice to get a minute away from the conflict,” Fareeha murmured. “A minute alone together.”

With a nod and a sigh, Angela leaned in and up for a brief kiss. She dropped a hand to grab onto Fareeha’s and tugged gently, backward. “Here, come, let’s find somewhere to sit.”

“Sore feet?” The soldier quirked an eyebrow, trying to mostly get rid of the dust on her face by rubbing it on her armoured arm, but it didn’t do too much. “I could give them a rub if you like.”

Angela groaned obscenely. “Promises, promises. Don’t make them if you can’t keep them, Fari!”

They each giggled softly, making their way through the strange room by candlelight - Angela’s light steps took her over or around chunks of rubble easily, she tilted and swayed but never stumbled. Fareeha’s own footfalls were firm and certain, sometimes knocking pieces of concrete out of the way but never wavering.

It wasn’t a very large room, down at the bottom of the shaft - what it had originally been, they couldn’t guess, but shelves lined the walls now. It seemed to be half cellar and half bomb shelter - food and drink were stored around the room in an odd mix on non-perishable tins (some of which were so old the labels had peeled right off) and burlap sacks from the market that held potatoes so fresh, they hadn’t begun to sprout.

Fareeha’s stomach grumbled looking at the assortment of foodstuffs.

“Did you forget to have lunch again, Fari?”

She looked over to Angela with a forced grin. “What? No, of course not!” She cleared her throat before smirking under suddenly narrowed eyes. “Besides which, I’m willing to bet you forget breakfast  _ and _ lunch.”

“I couldn’t begin to guess what you’re talking about,” Angela denied strenuously, cheeks shifting slightly pink in the yellow glow of the candles, and Fareeha laughed brightly as the doctor’s stomach betrayed her with a groan.

“Well, good thing we’ve got the kit with us,” Fareeha assured as she took a seat on a crate near the wall. Another one nearby provided a seat for Angie, and a larger one could even act as a bit of a table.

She tugged the larger crate closer and set the candles down on it, then unbuckled the survival kit from Angela’s belt with a chuckle. Her head tipped back toward the shaft that led up to the surface. “Bad enough we caused this damage - I’d feel terrible about eating all their food, too.”

“Excuse me,  _ we _ caused this damage?” Angela smirked broadly, laying a hand flat on her chest. “I think you’ll find that  _ you _ caused the damage.  _ I _ was trying to tell you to exercise caution.”

Fareeha sighed, shaking her head in faux disappointment. “And you were so close to a foot rub, too. To go and spoil it just like that…”

“I- I mean,” Angela swiftly retorted, “what I  _ meant _ to say was that of course it was us, and you are very sweet for wanting to not eat their food. Now, what was that about a foot rub?”

The soldier laughed as Angie turned on her crate, with a grin. Suddenly, she found that she had a lap full of doctor legs, and she chuckled as she gave them a little pat. “In a minute! I’m hungry, first.”

“Right,” Angela cleared her throat as Fareeha unzipped the pack fully. “About that - Fari, I probably should mention that I, erm-”

She cut off as Fareeha upended the pack and dumped out its contents onto the crate. The lighter clattered out, along with a small container of water purification pills, a Mylar tent, a little fishing kit, one granola bar, and a package of instant chicken-noodle soup with a spoon.

There was supposed to be enough food for three days in there, not one snack and a light entrée. Fareeha’s confused eyes flicked from the crate to the bag, which she pulled wider open and shook a few more times. Nothing else came out, nothing else was inside - then, her gaze shifted to Angela.

Angela, who fidgeted on her crate. Angela, whose soft cheeks were flushing almost bright red in the yellow light. Angela, whose eyes looked everywhere except for back at her.

“Have-” Fareeha bit her lips together for a second to stop herself from laughing, drawing on years of experience to school her expression into something stoic and stern. “Angela. Have you been snacking from your survival kit again?”

The doctor’s head tipped steeply off to the side, her gaze pulling even further away as one shoulder rolled in a bit of a shrug, before she met Fareeha’s eyes and nodded rapidly. She looked somewhere between ashamed and excited, like a child who had stolen chocolate and still had melted remnants of evidence smeared all over their cheeks.

Even the well-trained soldier-face of Fareeha Amari couldn’t resist that, and she cracked up laughing - a snicker escaped first, through her nose, and then a single laugh that blurted through her lips before the dam broke entirely and she fell forward against the larger crate they were using as a table, supporting herself as her shoulders heaved.

“I- I’m sorry, I just- I get very hungry sometimes!” Angela complained, flustered, as Fareeha continued to laugh.

“Yeah!” Fareeha shot back. “Forgetting half your meals will do that!”

“Farriiiiii!” She whined, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around the soldier’s armoured torso. “I feel really bad about it!”

The laughter overtook words again for a second as Angela continued to whimper pathetically, but soon Fareeha straightened up and pulled her in close, pressing a grinning kiss to her lips.

“It… it  _ might _ be a good idea to get your kit replenished from the base stores, after you snack on it,” Fareeha snickered, stroking a stray bit of hair behind Angie’s ear. “That’s all I’m saying.”

The doctor averted her eyes again, dropping her head forward into Fareeha’s waiting hand. “I already did that,” she muttered. “Quartermaster said I’ve gone through too many.” Her blue eyes shifted swiftly. “I even applied for two kits under the names of injured soldiers.”

A snicker leapt from Fareeha’s nose, but she bit her lips together sharply as Angela’s eyes snapped to hers. “Sorry. Not funny.”

Angela rolled her eyes and tipped her head forward until it rested gently against Fari’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s a  _ little _ funny,” she admitted in a grumble.

Fareeha grinned widely but didn’t say anything. Tears of laughter had cut little streaks through the dust on her cheeks. She wrapped Angela up tightly in her arms, taking a deep breath and sighing it out as she tipped her head forward to nuzzle at blonde hair. She inhaled slowly, her brain feeling light and tingly as Angie’s scent filled her head and her lung. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Angela Zeigler, the amazing food-pig,” came the grumbled response, and Fareeha couldn’t help a giggle.

“That’s not the  _ only _ amazing thing about you,” she teased, grinning at the groan she got and leaning back, cupping a hand under Angela’s chin and gently lifting her head to meet her eyes.

“I guess,” Angela muttered, trying to still sound grumpy - but it was so hard when she was looking into those gorgeous dark eyes. Warm and beautiful, she’d always loved looking into them.

Fareeha’s grin widened as she saw a smile tug at Angela’s lips. “There, that’s better. Now, how about you make the soup while I give your tired feet a rub, hmm?”

“I don’t know if I deserve a foot rub,” she complained lightly.

“That’s why you’re making the soup,” Fareeha retorted.

Angela laughed brightly, pulling the foil pouch toward herself as Fari gently tugged off her boots. “Ah yes, it is such a strenuous undertaking, making this soup…”

She tore the top off of the foil pouch and pulled her canteen free from her belt, pouring water in up to a dashed fill line. The water mixed with flavouring and with a mixture of chemicals, starting an exothermic reaction that heated the soup quickly - Angela was sure to hold her hands free, pinching at the top of the pouch where indicated. That was really all the work required, though. In a few minutes it would be hot and ready to eat.

Not exactly the most high-effort romantic dinner to share by candlelight.

Fareeha diligently unfastened and removed Angela’s boots, shifting a little bit sadly further away on her crate so she could set Angie’s feet in her lap. She started to rub, following the curves of the foot with her thumb - pressing into the arch, long, slow, firm strokes, and she relied on Angie’s feedback as much as possible.

Feedback which Angela was more than happy to provide. With Fari’s first stroke, deep into the arch of her foot, a rough moan ripped out of Angela’s throat and she tipped her head back. She continued throughout the massage, little moans and groans and soft murmurs in English or German.

It was incredibly distracting. Fareeha could feel her mouth drying out at the wanton and pleased noises - Angela was a fairly quiet woman, usually.

In public.

In private, though, out of earshot of anybody else? She had quite the desire for loudness.

“Oh  _ yes _ Fari,” she uttered heatedly, laying back along the crate and holding the pouch of heating soup off to the side. “That feels  _ incredible, _ don’t stop.”

“You’re gonna get me over-excited at this rate,” Fareeha mumbled, heat rising from her gut to her cheeks. “And that’s just cruel given that Reinhardt might return at any moment.”

Angela giggled, interrupted halfway through by an almost pained groan that trailed off into a delighted sigh “Hmm, I might not mind so much, to tell the truth.”

“Angie!”

“What? Your hands are incredible!” She raised her head enough to flash Fareeha a devious grin. “I can’t help but think about all the other things they could be doing.”

“You’re so mean sometimes,” the soldier hissed softly, continuing to rub at Angie’s feet as her cheeks heated even further.

Angela laughed. “Yes, and you are too, Fari! Don’t worry, though - aaahh that’s good - we’ll be back at the base soon enough anyway.”

“Yeah, for debriefings and-”

“You can  _ debrief _ me any time!”

Fareeha dropped her chin to her chest with a groan as Angela laughed. “Okay, okay, I’m out, I can’t take any more! One more bit of teasing and you’ll need to make a brand new Valkyrie suit, as I’ll have torn that one to shreds.”

“Promises, promises,” Angela grinned, snickering softly as she pushed herself upright again and loosely tugged her boots back on - as well as she could with one hand, anyway. “Don’t make them if you can’t keep them! Anyway, the soup should be ready now.”

She flashed Fareeha a smile and held out the pouch, and the little spoon. If she’d been telling everything she would have needed to admit that the teasing had taken its hold on her, too, and she couldn’t help but think about what  _ else _ they could get up to locked away in this little room.

However, Reinhardt really  _ could _ come back to get them out at any moment. As much of a sweetheart as he was, generally, she didn’t want him to wander into the middle of anything particularly compromising.

On top of which, she was a little bit worried about what might happen to his heart.

Instead, she tried to focus on the soup and the soft candlelight, and her delightful company - she shuffled closer, laying a hand on Fari’s leg as the soldier spooned up a little soup and blew on it before sipping it.

“Mm, good,” she nodded, flashing Angela a smile. “Not the best, obviously, but I’ve definitely had worse.”

“I prefer their cream of mushroom,” Angela admitted with a shrug and a slight blush, reaching out and taking the granola bar to unwrap. She split it in two and handed half to Fareeha, then on a whim leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, smiling at the grin that she instilled.

“Well, I defer to the expert!” Fareeha chuckled, giving a little half-salute with the spoon. “I’ll make sure to requisition some cream of mushroom soup when we get back to base. Want some?” She held out the pouch in offering.

Angela nodded, swapping half of the granola bar for the pouch of soup and spoon. It was nice and hot, and tasty too. “Are you really sure that would be the  _ best _ use of your time on base, Fari?” She quirked an eyebrow, grinning as the soldier started to take a bite of her granola bar. “I’m quite certain I have an old set of scrubs that I’m not using anymore. If I’m throwing them away anyway, we might as well tear them to shreds, first…”

Her grin widened a little bit as Fari’s eyes did the same, shifting over to meet hers.

Fareeha gulped down her bite of granola bar with a smirk. She raised an eyebrow and murmured, “Promises, promises…”

Her thoughts drifted back to their first date - spicy food which had turned out to be a mistake, and two tealights as ambience.

Now, here they were in a combination cellar and bomb shelter, eating Insta-Soup by the light of emergency candles which would even burn underwater.

It was absolutely perfect.

“Best mission I’ve gone on,” Fareeha murmured softly, catching Angie’s eyes with a smile which was instantly returned, sending her heart racing faster.

“For me as well!” Angela agreed readily, holding up a spoonful of soup with a soft giggle. “Now, listen to your doctor and say  _ ahhh!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! Got a little rushed with this one by accident - I could've made it longer but I ended up skipping NaNo entirely yesterday and I might end up working two jobs for the next little while, so I figured I'd best call it off while I was ahead, heh! Hope you liked this little fluffy/silly Pharmercy bit - for those interested, I'm gonna consider this canonical for BSN! So... there's that, yup!
> 
> Hope you liked it, folks, and come on back tomorrow for more fun!


	19. Realisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a recalled Overwatch, Fareeha is totally gay. Somehow she hasn't connected the dots. Jesse is a good friend.
> 
> Writer: Dliessmgg  
> Prompt: omg, how have I never figured out before that I'm gay  
> Ship: Pharmercy, but on screen is mostly the friendship between Fareeha and Jesse
> 
> There was some miscommunication on our part and this was supposed to be the prompt for the 16th, but better late than never? I guess?

„Hmm? Yes, she looks good, so?“ Fareeha asked, shooting a sideways glance at Jesse. They were alone in the break room – unsurprising, with how few members New Overwatch had. At least they wouldn't have to argue over who gets to sit in the bean bags.

„But y'see, young'un, nobody looks at her the way you do. And you're constantly flirting with her.“ Jesse smirked. Does she really not see it? Or is she just playing dumb? Either way, it's amusing.

„That's what you call flirting? I like making jokes, I guess. Doesn't automatically mean I'm _flirting_.“ She traced a finger around the edge of the book cover. _Love Poetry in Medieval Egypt_ , by Alexandre Saïd. Growing up mostly in Canada, sometimes at Overwatch HQ, she felt she had some catching up to do. Right now, Jesse prevented her from that with his silly speculation. „This is just who I am. Or at least, who I grew up to be. We haven't seen each other in years, of course I'm different from a little child.“

„Then how come those _jokes_ are only directed at Angie? And even before she joined us again, you only made _jokes_ towards the other women.“ Jesse just barely held back a chuckle. His smirk slowly turned into a grin.

Fareeha tilted her head. „Well then ... let's assume for a moment that this is _flirting_. Then why would it be so remarkable? You're entirely the wrong person to point fingers, you constantly flirt with women too, Mister McCree.“

Jesse boiled over with laughter. Fareeha just stared at him in confusion as he almost rolled out of his bean bag. After he calmed down, he wiped a tear from his eye. He wanted to say something, but as soon as he saw Fareeha's look he almost started giggling again.

She was starting to get irritated. What was he laughing at? Even if he was upfront about everything, sometimes he was the biggest enigma. „What is so funny about that? During my visits when I was young, you were like that too. And you know that I know, since I always hung out with you. Oh, and in the military, on our days off, the guys were also always flirting with women. In Helix they were a bit calmer since they were older, but still, they liked to flirt with women. So isn't it normal to flirt with women, if what I'm doing really is _flirting_?“

Jesse raised an eyebrow. „Hmm ... so you grew up mostly surrounded by men?“

„I guess?“ Fareeha narrowed her eyes. „Is that important?“

He stroked his beard. „Well, I'm no psychologist, but I think your environments have influenced you somewhat. Tell me, how often have you seen a woman flirting with other women?“

Fareeha tilted her eyes up left shortly, pondering. „Well ... I haven't really gotten close enough to many women. I guess Lena here when she's on the phone with Emily, but that's because ... they're ...“ Her mind went blank. A cold shiver went down her spine, heating up her entire body. Jesse gave her a knowing smirk.

„Wait, you mean ... I'm ....?“ Fareeha stuttered.

„Yes, I mean exactly that.“ Jesse smiled.

 _Oh_.


	20. I'm Gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha has a gay awakening the day that a blonde woman knocks over her motorcycle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Omg, how have I never figured out before that I’m gay
> 
> This is technically late, but I sort of jumped on this prompt a day after it was supposed to be posted lol. This is the culmination of around eight hours of extremely distracted writing and hasn't been proofread. We're in this together.

 

“Fuck.”

It was a warm Wednesday morning, almost noon. The sun was out, the breeze was cool, and Fareeha had just gotten out of bed. She was late for her brunch date.

_Fuck, this is the seventh time I’ve been late for a date with him._

Fareeha had been dating this guy for a little over a month now and things were… pleasant enough. They didn’t hold hands, or kiss, or text each other, or really talk much outside of their twice-weekly dates. She just chalked it up to the fact that relationships took time. At the pace they were going, they were bound to end up as the relationship of the century.

After a quick shower and a panicked search for her keys, Fareeha was out the door. She hopped on her motorcycle and snapped a quick flexing selfie to post on her blog before she sped off to the café she was supposed to meet her date.

Apparently, the café was in a busy part of town. She ended up having to park her bike a few blocks away. _Fuck, now I’m even more late._

With so many people around, Fareeha had a hard time running without bumping into anyone. She settled for a slow-ass power walk. When she finally reached her destination, Fareeha easily spotted her date sitting at a table by himself bopping his head along to the tunes coming out of his headphones.

A tap to the shoulder brought her date out of his distracted state. “Thanks for waiting up for me again, Lúcio. Did you already order?”

Lúcio slid his headphones down to rest around his neck and gave Fareeha a knowing smile. “Well, well, look who finally rolled out of bed. I’ll have you know that I had to fend off your seat from the rest of these café fiends looking for somewhere to sit. You see that guy leaning against the wall in the red hat? I had to shut him down three times. He kept asking if the seat was taken, practically begged the last time.” He waited for his date to take the seat he diligently protected before continuing. “And, no, I haven’t ordered yet. I was pretty sure you’d show up even if you ended up being late. Did you stay up late because of your blog again?”

Fareeha scratched at the back of her head, trying to keep her embarrassment from showing up on her cheeks. “Ah, well, you know how it is when you have an active inbox. I had a backlog of people asking about my workouts, so I put together a video and a bunch of pictures. As you can imagine, I ended up with a full inbox again after I made the post. It kept me busy for a while.”

A silence fell over them after that. They looked through the menu avoiding eye contact until a server came over to end their suffering, well, take their order. “Hello, glad to have you here at Café on the Spot. My name’s Hana. What can I get for you two today?” The teen server stood with a notepad casually clasped in one hand, occasionally blowing bubbles with her gum.

Fareeha spewed the first thing that came to mind. “I'll have the creamed spinach over poached eggs.” She thought about asking for a dry martini with an olive, but it was barely the afternoon and she wasn’t sure if they carried alcohol. “And a water to go with it.”

Hana wrote down the order then turned to Lúcio for his. “And what can I get you? Same thing or something different?”

Lúcio went with the something different option, ordering chocolate crepes with a ton of whipped cream and a tall glass of orange lemonade.

The silence returned once the server left to put in their order. Fareeha tried starting a conversation and, to his credit, Lúcio tried to be remotely interested in it. Eventually, any sign of pleasant talk died down into the silence that practically defined their relationship. Hana returning with their food alleviated the usual awkwardness that sprung up on their dates.

Fareeha and Lúcio ate their respective meals, occasionally saying anything that popped into mind. It felt forced, but they went on with it anyway until their plates were empty and they were tired of beating around the bush. As it always happened, the two of them got up at the same time and gave each other a stiff hug. Lúcio’s tender height of five feet three inches was always a sight to see awkwardly pressed against Fareeha’s five feet eleven inch form, but it was the only form of intimacy they were even remotely comfortable with.

 “So, I’ll see you same time on Saturday?” Fareeha asked as she slowly walked away from the table. Lúcio gave her a head nod which was all the confirmation she needed to walk away faster guilt-free.

_I’m glad that’s over with. Although, I get the sense that I probably shouldn’t be feeling that way._ She walked back to her bike, hands in her pocket, head in thought. It came as a surprise when she reached her parked motorcycle to find a blonde woman freaking out over it. It was knocked over and the blonde woman was muttering to herself as she paced beside it.

_She must have knocked it over._ Fareeha walked up to her motorcycle and carefully set it back up, effectively stopping the woman’s frantic pacing.

The woman looked like she was going to say something, but the words died on her lips as soon as she caught sight of Fareeha. _No way._ She pulled out her phone, switching between looking at it and Fareeha.

Fareeha had to hold back from speeding off on her motorcycle with the way this blonde woman was acting. Curiosity was the only thing that kept her rooted in place. “Did you knock over my bike on accident or something?” she asked the woman hoping to spur an explanation out of her.

“Ah, yes, about that. I’m terribly… gay.” The woman’s eyes widened and she quickly covered her mouth. A soft flush rose to her cheeks, indicating the embarrassment she felt from her word vomit.

_That’s really cute. Wait, what?_

“Ha! Um, what I really meant to say, well not that what I said wasn’t true, but that isn’t the point of the matter, it’s just not what I actually wanted to say. Not that I don’t ever want to say how gay I am and now that I think about what I’m saying, it’s clear that I should definitely stop talking.” She clamped her hands back over her mouth and took a deep breath before continuing. “Sorry about your bike! I was trying to catch the bus because my car is in the shop, but I got pushed out of the way by other people also trying to catch that same bus. I may have grabbed onto your bike to stop myself from falling, but I ended up taking it down with me. I’m terribly _sorry_ about that.”

Fareeha looked at the flustered blonde, a grin plastered on her face. She felt giddy, like someone was tickling her all over from the inside. This stranger of a woman had her feeling happier than any of her dates with Lúcio ever had. She didn’t want to let go of it. “It’s no big deal. I’ve knocked this thing over myself plenty of times, no harm done. My name’s Fareeha by the way,” she said holding out her hand for the mystery woman to take.

“Oh, yes, I know.” The blonde clamped her hands over her mouth again, this time looking like she was silently chastising herself. “Angela, my name’s Angela and I recognize you from your blog. That’s why I looked surprised when I first saw you.” Angela took hold of Fareeha’s hand, shaking it with a shy smile, blush more prominent than ever.

A blush of her own threatened to spread across Fareeha’s face. By now she was sporting a full smile, her heart pounding hard against her chest. “Oh, wow. This is the first time I’ve ever met anyone that follows me. It’s kind of cool. Do you like exercising?”

Angela glanced over Fareeha’s form, paying close attention to her biceps. “Something like that.”

“Well, whatever the case, it’s nice to meet you, Angela. You said you missed your bus earlier, do you need a ride somewhere?”

_No way, no way, no way! The person that I thirst followed is offering me a ride on her motorcycle. Am I in heaven?_ “Um, sure, if you don’t mind, then I graciously accept your offer. I need to get to the hospital for my shift.”

Fareeha climbed onto her bike and handed Angela her helmet to wear. “It’s no problem, just hop on and hold on tight.”

_You don’t have to tell me twice._ Angela put the helmet on then positioned herself behind Fareeha on the motorcycle. And because she was such a good listener, she made sure to circle her arms securely around the waist in front of her. _It just wouldn’t do to fall off._

When she was certain her passenger was safely in place, Fareeha started up her bike and headed in the direction of the hospital. Driving always cleared her head, but she couldn’t get the thought of Angela holding onto her so tight out of her mind. She had never been one for intimacy, but the feeling of the blonde’s arms around her sent her head spinning. She felt safe and warm all over. It was hard to think straight; her mind was blank and full of thought all at once. _I kind of don’t want this to end._

Unfortunately, the ride did eventually end. They made it to the hospital with time to spare before Angela’s shift started.

When the blonde thanked her for the ride and started to head towards the building, Fareeha yelled out, “Wait!”

Angela turned around with her eyebrow raised in a question.

“Uh, well, it was nice meeting you today. Is it okay if I message you later?”

Angela pretended to be in thought before she agreed. “Oh, yeah. That’s fine. But, here, let me save you a little trouble.” She took out her phone and typed up a quick message before waving bye to Fareeha.

A notification sound prompted Fareeha to bring out her phone.

**yourguardianangellovesyou:**

hey, it’s angela

thanks for the ride!

feel free to send all the messages you want :P

 

**flexingengineer:**

haha it was my pleasure to help out

have a good day at work :)

 

Fareeha returned home that day glad that she ended up being late for her date. It was worth it to meet Angela.

She flopped onto her bed and cuddled a pillow to her chest. She was excited and didn’t know what to do to calm herself down. Another notification came from her phone which didn’t help her situation at all. Angela had sent a selfie of her dressed in scrubs. She had her tongue sticking out and she was leaning against her open locker.

Fareeha almost threw her phone across the room when she saw the picture. _So cute. She even used a peace sign. What a nerd. A cute, kissable nerd._

The thought had her sitting straight up in bed, a flood of realization hitting her all at once.

_I think…_

 She thought back on all the disappointing dates she had with Lúcio as well as her previous relationships. They all felt like a big waste of time and had never been fulfilling. She hadn’t even experienced any real attraction to them. Angela, though, she was different. Twenty minutes with her and Fareeha was already a mess of feelings.

_I think I’m gay. How have I never figured this out before?_

-

Fareeha spent the next few days doing her normal routine: work out, go to work, run her blog. The only difference now being that she messaged Angela during most of her free time.

They ended up sharing a lot of common interests and planned to hang out the following week. So, it was only natural that when Saturday morning rolled around, Fareeha was a bit disappointed that she had a date scheduled with Lúcio. _I’m just gonna have to break the news to him today. I just can’t do this anymore._

For the first time in a while, Fareeha ended up arriving earlier than her date. Lúcio looked surprised when he walked in at eleven thirty.

“Whoa, you’re actually early today. What’s up with that?” Lúcio asked as he took a seat across from her.

“Well, I have some news to break to you.” She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’m –”

“Hello, glad to have you here at Café Around the Corner. My name’s Hana. What can I get for you two today?” The same server from Café on the Spot had interrupted her, unabashedly so.

Both Fareeha and Lúcio looked at her with surprise.

“What, do I have something on my face?”

“Don’t you work at Café on the Spot?” Fareeha asked.

“Yeah, so? In this economy, if you don’t have two jobs then you aren’t getting paid full time. Are you gonna order or should I come back later?” The server blew a big bubble with her gum. It exploded all over her lips, but she cleaned it off fairly quickly and was back to chewing it in no time at all.

“I not going to be sticking around for long so I’m not gonna order anything,” Fareeha said.

Hana looked over at Lúcio expectantly.

“Uh, I guess I’m not going to order anything either?”

The server shrugged and lazily walked off towards another table that needed attending.

Lúcio turned his attention back to Fareeha. “So, what were you going to say?”

“Oh.” Fareeha gathered herself together once more. “I’m gay and I don’t want to date you anymore. Sorry.”

“Ah, okay, fair enough.” He went quiet for a minute before he burst out into laughter. “You know, it’s funny. You remember when we first started dating?”

“Kind of.”

“One of the first things you told me was that you were totally okay with me being so much shorter than you. You said, and I quote, ‘As a kid, I always imagined being taller than my future partner anyway. You know, being the big spoon, picking her up…’ I didn’t say anything about your slip-up, and now, thinking about it, I guess it wasn’t. You’re gay.”

“You’re taking this awfully well. You’re not mad?”

“Nah, it’s cool. If we’re here confessing things, then I guess now’s a good time to say that I think I’m also gay.”

“Huh, cool.”

“Yeah, after you left the café last Wednesday the guy in the red hat came back to the table to confess that he really wanted to sit with me because he liked me and thought I was cute. That’s when the pieces all came together and I realized some things.”

Fareeha was floored. “No way, we had our gay awakening on the same day. That’s kind of awesome.”

“Yeah, it really is. So, friends then?”

“Hmm, I can work with that.”

-

Being friends with Lúcio turned out to be way better than she expected it to be. They messaged each other more often than they ever did and had more fun hanging out now than they ever managed to on their dates.

Angela and Fareeha had also become a lot closer since their first meeting. Since she wasn’t dating Lúcio anymore, Fareeha felt more comfortable being a little flirty. Angela was really receptive to it and would fire back with her own flirting just as hard.

It was a Friday night when things came to a head. They two of them had just finished watching a movie together and were headed back to Angela’s place on Fareeha’s motorcycle. Angela had her own helmet now. She took rides with Fareeha any chance she could, claiming it was much more enjoyable than driving her car. It may or may not had anything to do with the wonderful person she got to hold onto every time.

“So, what did you think of the movie?” Angela asked as she fished her keys out of her bag.

“Hmm, it was okay.”

“It was just okay? You didn’t like it?”

They were just outside the door now, standing under one of the front lights. Angela motioned for Fareeha to join her on the porch swing.

“I actually wasn’t paying too much attention to the movie,” Fareeha confessed. “I kept thinking about some other things. The movie just ended up as background noise.”

Angela was more than a little curious now. “You were the one that wanted to go see the movie in the first place. What had you so distracted?”

“You. I can’t help but think this over and over again, but, I’m glad you knocked over my bike. I got to meet possibly the greatest person on the planet and I gained someone to talk to every day. I run a popular fitness blog, but you’d be surprised to know that hardly anyone wants to talk to me beyond asking for tips and advice. I’m truly thankful that we got to meet. It helped me realize some things.”

“Oh, like what?”

“That I’m gay and I want to kiss you and that I love it when you hold on tight during our motorcycle rides. I like you a lot and you make me incredibly happy.”

Angela had a hard time keeping eye contact with Fareeha. Her cheeks felt hot and she was one hundred percent sure her face was beet red. She felt like smiling and dancing and screaming all at once with Fareeha’s confession. “I really like you too, and I think a kiss right now would be perfect.”

They met together in a tentative kiss that quickly deepened. Fareeha could feel her stomach practically doing summersaults. She felt lightheaded, like she was floating through clouds and freefalling at the same time. Angela on the other hand now had undeniable proof that she had indeed died and gone to heaven the day she knocked over Fareeha’s bike. This moment had to be the epitome of happiness, something a person doesn’t get to experience while they’re still alive.

They pulled apart from each other grinning from ear to ear all the while.

“Yeah, I’m definitely gay.”

-

Fareeha and Angela were quick to become a couple after that fateful Friday night. They were about six months into their relationship when Angela finally decided to confess something of her own to Fareeha.

They both had the day off and were enjoying each other’s company on Angela’s couch. It was the perfect time for revealing things.

“Darling?”

“Yes?”

“Remember the day we first met? I knocked over your motorcycle, but you were super sweet about it and introduced yourself to me?”

“How can I forget? It was one of the best days of my life.”

“Well, I sort of have a tiny confession about something.”

Fareeha was all ears now. “Oh, about what?”

“It’s nothing bad, just that after you introduced yourself, I said that I knew who you were because of your blog. I actually thirst followed you. I found your blog by looking through the recommended stuff and instantly followed you when I saw your picture. I was super gay for you at the time, still am.”

Laughter had already claimed Fareeha’s life by the time Angela was done with her confession. “That’s perfect, babe. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't ask me who the guy in the red hat is. I have no idea. I don't ship anyone with Lúcio so it could literally be anyone.


	21. Sometimes You Fall in Love with An Alien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha's cat runs into the woods one night and she gets beamed up into Angela's flying saucer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I got abducted by extraterrestrials but oops now we’re in love
> 
> Okay, so, this one is also late. But it should be at least a little bit funny. I wrote it in a sleep-deprived haze, so it's lit. It's also kind of borderline crack. Again, no proofreading was done. WE'RE IN THIS TOGETHER.

“Pickles! Pickles! Pickles, dammit it’s one in the morning and your ass isn’t safely at home. Come on, now. This is the wilderness. You wouldn’t last a day on your own. Just come back already!”

It was one in the morning and Fareeha was stuck outside looking for her cat, Pickles. According to her mother, he had run off into the woods around five and hadn’t been back since.

_“I’m sorry, habibti, I had just stopped by to drop off some baked goods and he took the opportunity to make a run for it. I couldn’t chase after him because I’m so damn old now. You understand, yes?”_

Being the good pet owner that she was and out of genuine concern, Fareeha ventured out into those very woods in search of her dumbass of a cat. In the middle of the night. With nothing but a flashlight and some cat treats.

_I love the little shit but next time he decides to frolic in the woods I think I’m just going to put out a nice blanket and a fucking box. I could get murdered out here._

Since she came home from work, Fareeha had been diligently searching through the woods for Pickles. He wore a bell, so it would be obvious if he was nearby unless he took it off. The only problem was that she was positive she was running out of woods to search. Either her mother had gotten her story wrong, or Pickles just wasn’t there anymore.

 _Well, fuck me, this blows. I’m just gonna go back home and pick this back up tomorrow._ That was easier said than done. On her way back to her house, Fareeha found herself floating midair, steadily rising by the second.

_Holy shit. Am I actually getting abducted by real live aliens? Dammit, fucking Pickles. I blame his ass for this shit._

And so Fareeha accepted her fate with open arms. She was probably never going to see home again so, fuck it, right? Apparently not.

She was beamed right up into the plushest chair she’s ever had the pleasure of sitting in. The immediate area was void of any alien presence. At least until an angry looking blonde woman stalked over to her wearing a skintight suit. “Don’t you know it’s rude to beam up into someone else’s saucer without at least letting them know first?”

Fareeha had never been more confused in her life. “Uh, excuse me, but, what the fuck are you talking about?”

The blonde puffed up her cheeks and crossed her arms. “You know, flying saucers, the type of spaceship that you’re sitting in. The privately-owned spaceship by the way.”

“Oh, sorry about that I guess? I didn’t even realize that I’d be beamed up on my way back home. Are you an alien or something?”

The woman looked over Fareeha with a confused expression. “What do you mean by alien? We’re the same species. Only Glorzaks can beam up into a saucer.”

 _I’m a what now?_ “Excuse me, a Glorzak?”

“Yup, that’s us. Honestly, we haven’t done much as a species beyond building and patenting flying saucers. On the flip-side, that’s also the reason why aliens are so popular on this planet. It’s all because of us.” The blonde Glorzak sat down directly next to Fareeha on the plush chair. There was plenty of room for personal space, but, apparently, that particular attribute wasn’t popular among their species. “My name is Angela. Yours?”

“…Fareeha.”

“That is a beautiful name. And, I must say, you are the most attractive Glorzak I’ve ever laid eyes on. Would you like to enter a romantic bond with me? We would produce the cutest offspring.”

 _Come again? Beautiful? Romantic bond? Offspring? This is all so sudden._ Sudden, yes, but Fareeha wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment and she was apparently a Glorzak like Angela. Fuck it. “Sure, but since I’m new to this whole Glorzak thing, what does a romantic bond entail?”

Angela smiled, happy that this trespassing Glorzak accepted her request so quickly. She had been rejected countless times before. “Personally, I’d like to start off with a solid month of romantic gestures like kissing, hand holding, flirting, cuddling…”

_Sounds pretty normal._

“And fucking. That part is particularly enjoyable. Or at least that’s what I’m told.”

 _And now it’s lit._ “Well, from my experience, yes, that part is particularly enjoyable. Is there anything else to this romantic bond thing?”

“Hmm, hopefully we’ll be in love by the end of the month and then we could just proceed with becoming spouses. We’d live here in my saucer since I don’t own a stationary home. I even came across this creature earlier today that we could take care of together.”

Angela left their shared seat and came back with the very cat that Fareeha was looking for.

“Pickles! What are you doing here?”

The cat recognized Fareeha and rubbed his head all along her torso. He managed to catch his claws on the treats in her jacket pocket and trotted off to go feast on them.

Angela looked at the retreating form of Pickles fondly. “Oh, I thought he was exceptionally cute, so I beamed him up. He hid underneath the bed in my sleeping quarters for the longest time.” She turned her attention back to Fareeha. “So, we are proceeding with the romantic bond, yes?”

“Yes, most definitely.”

“Oh, that’s great to hear.” Angela stood up and started to remove the skintight suit from her body. Fareeha quickly stood up as well to stop her.

“Whoa there! We don’t have to get to that part just yet. There’s other things we could do like getting to know one another.”

Angela actually pouted at Fareeha’s interjection. “But I have never done the fucking with anyone before. I was eager to try it out. You agreed that it was particularly enjoyable.”

“It is, but I don’t usually do that with people I don’t know. We may have entered a romantic bond, but we’re still practically strangers.”

“Fine, I will wait until you are ready to do the fucking. I would like to cuddle and listen to childhood stories from you on this plush seat. Is this acceptable?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.” Fareeha opened up her arms and held onto Angela when she snuggled up to her.

The rest of the month passed by in a blur of sweet alien romance. Fareeha and Angela did end up falling in love and consequently getting married at the end of the month. Together they raised Pickles and toured the galaxy in their flying saucer. And yes, they did the fucking many times and it was lit.

Ana Amari, resident old person, mother to Fareeha, and Glorzak in hiding, would have been worried about her daughter’s abrupt disappearance had she not known about it the entire damn time. In fact, she was the one that let Pickles out and set up her daughter’s meeting with Angela in the first place.

_Maybe I’ll finally get some fucking grandkids to fawn over._


	22. Fetish/Anti-Fetish Part One: Wholesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha has a suggestion for Angela, a question. It involves straps, a chair, a blindfold, and no clothing. Angela says yes, but doesn't immediately get _exactly_ what she had in mind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes/Warnings: I'd say that, if I've done my job right, this is _in theory_ not NSFW, but it still involves bondage, soooo let's say NSFW. Also, it's got bondage, so if that eeks you out, best avoid this one.
> 
> Hey folks, another one from me (that spawned a bonus chapter as well!) This one is base on the prompt "It's not a fetish if you write it wholesomely". If I'd had more time, I probably would have gone on further and into deeper detail, but as is, this is what I got - hope you enjoy it, folks!

PART ONE: It’s Not a Kink if you Write it Wholesomely Enough

 

“This… is something I  _ do _ want to try,” Fareeha murmured softly with a gentle smile, holding a blindfold in one hand and a set of straps in the other, “but not if you don’t want to, of course. It’s just been tickling in the back of my mind so long, and…” she trailed off into a shrug.

Angela nodded first, slightly wide-eyed in surprise. It had been quite a surprise, and not at all what she’d expected when her girlfriend had said she had a suggestion for the evening. “I-I thought you meant about what to eat,” she blurted out a slightly nervous laugh, “or a- a show, perhaps? But this- yes, mm, I see…”

Fareeha shook her head softly with a little laugh. “It’s really not- it’s not big deal, Angie, we can-” As she spoke, she started to hide the items behind her back again, but Angela reached out for her hand and she stopped.

“No, I-” the doctor murmured, meeting her dark eyes with a smile. “I think this will be fun,  _ ja. _ It- I don’t know if I’ve trusted anyone else enough for this, but with you?” She giggled softly, nodding in lieu of actual words and letting her smile communicate for her.

Fareeha’s face lit up with relief and excitement and she let out another laugh, this one fuller than the last. “Really? Wow, that-” she fixed Angela with a speculative look for a second, grinning goofily. “That’s really sweet, Angie. I trust you too.”

“...does that mean I can tie you up?” Angela suggested with a shrug of one shoulder.

“Ha!” Fareeha smirked. “Not a chance!” She snickered at the momentary crestfallen expression before Angela smiled and nodded, and Fareeha laid a hand on her shoulder. “Angie, I’m kidding,” she grinned. “I’d be delighted to be tied up - but for tonight, do you mind if I-”

“Oh, oh not at all, Fari,” Angela shook her head, gushing a laugh. “It- yes, this was your idea after all, so let us do it the way you planned. But… some other night, then?”

“Or even later tonight if we feel so inclined,” Fareeha murmured through a lopsided grin. “Thanks, though - I really appreciate that. Although,” she chuckled, “it’s not as if I  _ invented _ the idea.”

Angela nodded and rolled her eyes, leaning in to peck a quick kiss on Fari’s cheek, and then stalled somewhat.

The soldier saw the slightly lost look on Angie’s face and flashed her a particularly charming grin. “I’ll start getting these attached to the chair,” she murmured softly, eyeing Angela up and down. “Why don’t you start preparing yourself? Won’t be able to take any clothes off after the cuffs are on.”

“Of course, of course,” Angela nodded, reaching for her top button. Her hands froze there, though, and she raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you rather watch me, though?”

Fareeha blinked owlishly. “Well,  _ yes _ , obviously! I just didn’t want to make you wait while I attached the straps.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” Angela shrugged. “It will be worth it to see the look on your face as I dance for you!”

“You’re  _ impossibly _ sweet,” Fareeha giggled softly, pulling a chair out from her kitchen table and kneeling down next to it. “This shouldn’t take long.”

Angela watched her start to work. The straps appeared to form a sort of harness that ran around the legs of the chair and tightened to them, and then had take-off points to which  _ other _ straps attached. Those then ended in strong-looking padded cuffs, and Angela found herself quite excited with the prospect.

She crouched down behind Fareeha and started to give her shoulders a bit of a rub. The soldier sighed heavily, tipping her head back until Angela didn’t even need to lean her head forward to give her a kiss on the ear.

“You’re so tense, Fari,” she murmured softly, working at the soldier’s knotted muscles with every trick that her anatomical knowledge could lend her. “You really should take better care of yourself.”

“I know,” Fareeha sighed, then let out a goofy chuckle. “But if I did, that would take away my pity massages!”

Angela slapped her shoulder lightly with a scoff and a laugh, shaking her head as she returned to the massage. She grinned and watched Fari’s strong and capable hands work some kind of seeming magic with a web of straps, and then seemingly out of nowhere they were attached - strung tightly from leg to leg and with the cuffs dangling down to the floor.

Pushing herself upright, Fareeha turned around to give Angela a brief kiss on the lips. “Now,” she took a seat in the chair with a wide grin, “I think you have something to show me?”

The doctor giggled slightly with a nod, taking a few steps back for better ambience. Music might have been good, as well, but there was something to be said for spontaneity.

Fareeha’s eyes swept across Angie as she danced - smoothly and with a lot of co-ordination, if not necessarily a lot of a clue. She chuckled softly as Angela’s eyes widened slightly when a move didn’t quite pan out how she was expecting, and grinned so intensely at the slight blush creeping into her cheeks that Fareeha’s own cheeks started to hurt.

Angela was so effortlessly beautiful to her - as she undid her buttons from the top down, slowly revealing more skin, Fareeha couldn’t help but think of how soft it was to nuzzle her nose up against or trail fingertips down. As she tossed her shirt off to the side, Fareeha’s eyes followed the rise and fall of her hand, the flick of her wrist - subtle power, a little bit hidden under the surface; she wasn’t the most strong, certainly, but packed more of a punch than her frame belied.

Fareeha liked that. Like all of it, really - liked  _ Angela. _ She sighed contentedly as Angie shimmied her skirt off of narrow hips. Nothing was underneath, which meant the show was at an end and Fareeha rose from her chair clapping softly.

“Naughty, naughty,” she murmured softly, eyes flicking over Angela’s bare form which evidently hadn’t been bearing even a scrap of undergarments.

“Says the woman with the straps,” Angela retorted with a giggle, tapping Fari on the tip of her nose and then leaning up for a kiss, sighing at the way Fareeha’s lips locked to hers, the way their mouths fit, the way the soldier’s strong hands slid up her back, fingertips running tiny points of soft pressure that left relief and happiness in their wake.

“Speaking of,” Fareeha muttered against her lips and then wrapped her arms suddenly around Angela’s chest. The doctor yelped and laughed brightly as Fareeha picked her up absolutely effortlessly, spinning her around with their foreheads touching and Angie’s hand at her cheek, before setting Angela down in the chair.

“Your hand, madam,” Fareeha raised an eyebrow, kneeling down and holding out an expectant hand as if for a proposal, and Angela chuckled and complied, placing her hand in Fareeha’s.

It looked so perfect there, to her - smaller, paler, but if you looked closely it was just about as calloused. She could have forced them to heal but there was little point, they would only re-develop. Hers were from scalpels or IV racks, medications and the struts of impromptu collapsible aid tents, but they were no less present and they fit in so perfectly with Fareeha’s own.

Everything about them seemed to fit in so perfectly.

Angela smiled as Fareeha tightened the cuffs down around her wrists, glancing to her curiously to ensure they weren’t too tight but Angela swiftly shook her head. “They’re perfect,” she assured with a grin, “just like you.”

Fareeha rolled her eyes and blushed a little, her cheeks darkening even a bit further as Angela laughed at her triumph. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do to get a blush out of the Egyptian soldier, but Angela seemed to have a talent for it and she exercised that at every possible opportunity.

All four straps were tightened up in turn - first, around her joints, and then against the straps that held her to the chair. Fareeha directed her to give them a few practice tugs and she did. No movement, not a budge; she was held completely and firmly fast.

“Uh-oh,” Angela muttered in sudden panic. “My nose itches.”

Fari laughed and scratched it for her, Angela blushing a little at the attention required, but it wasn’t as if there was any other option.

“Now, before the blindfold,” Fareeha started, then held out a hand and raised an eyebrow. “Wait, do you have any other itches first?” Angela shook her head with a laugh and Fareeha grinned and continued. “I thought I might give  _ you _ a little show. The last thing you’ll see, hmm?”

Angela nodded happily, excitedly, and watched in anticipation as Fareeha set the blindfold down on her lap and retreated a few paces. The doctor gave the straps another few experimental tugs idly - she really was entirely secured, and couldn’t pull her wrists even a whole inch away from the arms of the chair, but she found she didn’t mind.

She didn’t feel trapped the way she’d expected, and it even felt a little bit interestingly pleasant to strain against such a solid but soft and comfortable restraint.

As soon as Fari started to dance and disrobe, though, all thoughts of the straps left Angela’s mind - the soldier was, no two ways about it,  _ ripped. _ Angela’s eyes trailed over all the little curves of musculature - gorgeous abdominal muscles, biceps that would make cartoon superheroes jealous, quads that could probably crush a watermelon.

She moved with a deliberate sort of grace and practice, motions rolling through her easily and following the natural tendencies of joints and muscles; Angela recognized it as that even as much as her mind went a little bit blank in awe over her girlfriend’s incredible beauty. Dark skin over defined muscles, a confident grin on her lips, piercing eyes, silken hair; gorgeous from head to toe, and Angela sighed heavily as Fari tugged her sports bra off over her head and tossed it off to the side and the doctor could finally  _ see _ her from head to toe.

“Absolutely beautiful,” Angela whispered breathlessly through a wide grin.

“Good,” Fareeha smirked as she approached, “because that’s the last thing you’ll see for…” she pulled back the elastic on the blindfold - which was actually a silken sleep mask - and set it over Angie’s eyes. “A while. At least. We can play it by ear.”

Angela smiled and nodded, unable to see anything but still feeling Fari’s close presence - a warmth on her skin, the hint of a breath, that odd electric sensation you get when another person is near.

She let out a yelp and laughed as a pair of lips brushed against the side of her neck.

“Feeling ticklish?” Fareeha’s dark voice settled heavily into her ear.

“Maybe!” Angela squeaked. “You wouldn’t, though. You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

She could practically  _ hear _ Fareeha’s eyebrow raising and she tensed up, trying to defend against an onslaught of tickles that she was sure would come any moment.

They didn’t though. What she got instead was a mouth pressing against the crook of her neck - not a kiss, exactly, but just Fareeha’s smiling mouth pressing solidly against the skin just above her collarbone as Angela felt contact and weight on her thighs as well.

Hands stroked backward along her ribs and she arched her back instinctively; the hands snuck behind her, and Fareeha let out a deep sigh as her chest pressed against Angela’s.

Then she just rested there like that for a moment, nuzzling her face into the crook of Angie’s neck and inhaling her scent deeply, squeezing her lightly in the embrace.

“Did…” Angela giggled softly. “Fari? Did you do this all just to cuddle me?”

“Well not  _ just _ to cuddle you,” she responded, “but I figured… why waste the opportunity, right?”

Angela laughed brightly, doing her best to return the gesture but of course being barred entirely from doing so. She giggled as she strained at the straps, entirely unable to gain even a half-inch of slack and return the embrace.

It would have been frustrating, if not for the fact that it was impossible to feel frustrated with Fari’s embrace constricting her chest, Fari’s nose rubbing against her collarbone, Fari’s weight on her thighs. Angela sighed contentedly and stopped trying to fight it, stopped pulling at the straps and let herself rest against the back of the chair.

Her head tipped to the side, seeking out Fareeha’s mouth and finding it with a delighted little high hum of a noise; her lips were so soft, but strong at the same time, just as she was. Her kisses were the perfect microcosm of herself, and Angela never could get enough of them - though she tried, very hard, to do so.

As she felt Fareeha shift, a hand slipping down her ribs and tracing tickling fingertips, Angela fought to suppress a giggle and failed. It burst out between her lips as she twisted, her spine curving reflexively away from the tickling, but there was nowhere to go to, not really.

The giggle grew to a laugh as Fareeha, grinning widely, took advantage of the surprise opportunity to its fullest. She practically attacked Angie’s ribs with her fingers, her grin growing by degrees as Angela laughed harder and harder, pink rising to her cheeks and then flushing to red.

“St-stop it!” Angela cackled. “P-please! I can’t- eep! -breathe!”

Fareeha let out a laugh and leaned in, catching Angela’s mouth with hers and stifling the laughs - a little. They still continued, Angie’s shoulders shaking as the joyous sounds burst out of her nose and Fareeha couldn’t suppress a smile at the beauty of it. All of which, combined, should have made for an awkward kiss - but it didn’t, not in the slightest.

The soldiers hands roamed freely, stroking over soft, warm skin interrupted only by the bindings that held Angela down. Fareeha sighed into their kiss, running a hand up into her hair and encouraging her head to tilt to the side. It was just about the only movement she was afforded, but she did so happily, sighing delightedly as the kiss deepened.

As Fareeha leaned away, Angela tried to follow, but couldn’t. She stretched out her neck and was rewarded with a peck on the lips for her efforts, and a soft, dark, Egyptian giggle. Her grin widened as those lips worked their way back along her jaw and down her neck; she tipped her head to grant the best access possible, sighing and humming her joy as Fareeha continued with her soft trail of warm kisses.

“I like this,” Angela stated, softly but decisively, as the kiss-trail passed her belly and lined down the top of one of her thighs. “I’m looking forward to seeing things from the other side of the curtain, as well, so to speak.”

“Oh, me too,” Fareeha murmured against her soft skin, smiling as she pressed a kiss to the inside of a knee. “I’m looking forward to it all.”

Angela hummed a bright and delighted noise, letting her head fall back as the kisses started up again, trailing inward. The only downside to the whole thing, really, was not getting to see Fari’s pretty face.

She’d see it again soon enough, though. For now she was more than happy to just feel the other woman’s warmth, hear her soft sounds, grin and giggle and gasp as it struck her to do so - the straps might stop her from moving, but they certainly didn’t stop her from reacting, and she did so with gusto.

A most delightful night of experimentation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I'd say this could be part of the BSN-verse. The first part seems like not so much, honestly; the first few paragraphs, the kind of uncertainty - but it definitely _could_ be, I just haven't been thinking about/portraying Angie in that as the sort who would be unnerved/worried by getting tied up. It could work, though. The later parts of the chapter definitely fit in pretty well for the dynamic.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this! An effort to take something that most people would consider kinky/nsfw, and make it a lot less so, through careful application of focus and language. The next one? Well, my fine friends, the next one is the exact _opposite_...


	23. Fetish/Anti-Fetish Part Two: Holesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tracer's back home with Emily after a trip abroad with Overwatch, and delighted to be so. She even has a new cereal for them to try out! It doesn't go exactly as planned. It goes _far better_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes/warnings: If I've done my job right, this is _decidedly_ NSFW - even though it mentions no genitals, no sexual contact, in fact barely any bodily contact of any kind, I think you might agree with me that this ends up being (in the words of the Mask) one spicy meatball. Presuming, of course, that I've done my job correctly.
> 
> Hello, my name is Jrade, and evidently I have no boundaries XD (and possibly, an Everything Kink?)

PART TWO: It’s Definitely a Kink if you Write it Smuttily Enough

 

Emily slogged down the short hallway, wiping a tired hand blearily at a sleepy face as she headed toward the kitchen, but she paused for a moment and turned around, waiting for her girlfriend to join her.

Lena bounced out of the bedroom with a smile on her face, and a sock on her head.

“Mm, you’ve got a sock on your head again, love,” Emily murmured when she caught sight of her girlfriend. She stretched and yawned and rubbed at her eyes, entirely at odds with Lena’s bright joyousness.

“You what?” Lena screwed up her face and raised an eyebrow, leaning in for a kiss which Emily happily gave her.

“I said,” she repeated softly, stroking at Lena’s cheek and then raising her hand a bit higher to pinch the sock between her fingertips, “that you’ve got a  _ sock _ in your  _ hair. _ Any idea why?”

“Uh…” Lena frowned, looking down to the confusing piece of clothing. She offered Emily a hesitant shrug, a chuckle, and the most sensible answer she could muster. “Everything’s gotta be somewhere?”

Emily looked back at her blankly for a beat, then laughed and tossed the sock into the hallway, wrapping her arms around Lena’s bare shoulders in the same motion. “Oh, it’s good to have you back, dear. You know how much I miss you when you’re gone.”

Lena “Tracer” Oxton, ex-jet-pilot and ex-Overwatch agent, and  _ kind of _ Overwatch agent once more, hugged tightly back as well as she could. “I know you do, love - I know. And I miss you too. And I think about you all the time. And I wish I could stay around here all the time, but I’ve gotta-”

“Got to save the world,” Emily sighed through a smile, entwining her fingers in Tracer’s mess of spiky hair and leaning back enough to catch her wide, glistening eyes and just hinting-at-a-blush cheeks.

“Well… yeah,” Tracer nodded, grinning softly. It always seemed to make her heart stop when Emily looked at her like that.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. They just stood, arms loosely around each other, hands in hair, eyes locked on each other.

Tracer’s stomach growled, abruptly and loudly, and drew both sets of eyes downward.

“Hungry there, love?”

Lena chuckled, shrugging a little. “Well, first breakfast home after a deployment’s alway a big deal, yeah?” She snapped her fingers suddenly and spun around. “Oh, speaking of! Here, I got this, love!”

She jumped, squeezed her fists, and then frowned down at herself.

“Accelerator’s still in the charger, dear,” Emily said through a yawn. “You’ll have to run over the old-fashioned way.”

Sighing, Tracer shook her head. “Like some kind of peasant.” Still, with a bright giggle, she jogged off to the bedroom to fetch something from her stuff.

Emily watched Lena’s butt as she went, and still had the grin from that on her face when the chirpy bird returned with a box in hand.

“Winston gave me a box of cereal he’s gone mad about, apparently,” Lena shrugged. “Wanna give it a try?”

“Probably beats four cups of tea and a dozen biscuits for nutrition,” Emily muttered as she took the box. Honey Nut Cheerios. She’d heard of them, definitely, they were pretty standard, and she frowned a little bit curiously. “Have you not tried these before?”

Tracer grinned, shaking her head. “Nope,” she chirped, “never before in my life!”

“Hmm,” Emily shrugged, stepping toward the kitchen. “They’re pretty good.”

Tracer leaned against the little archway into the kitchen and just watched as Emily went about the morning routine - she turned the kettle on, pulled down a pair of mugs and a pair of teabags, and then stretched up to one of the high shelves to pull down a couple of bowls.

She particularly liked watching that bit.

“You’re great, you know,” Lena murmured thoughtfully, grinning a little wider when Emily flashed a smirk over her shoulder.

“My arse thanks you, dear - after all, that’s who you were talking to, isn’t it?”

Lena nodded delightedly, giggling, and Emily let out a laugh of her own. “You’re such a dork,” the redhead muttered through a grin. “I love you.”

“Love you too, love,” Lena chuckled, pulling her eyes away enough to grab the milk out of the fridge. She drew up alongside Emily, brushing shoulder against shoulder - or shoulder against upper bicep, such as it ended up being with the height difference.

Emily poured cereal first, and milk overtop. Lena filled the bowl halfway with milk and then sprinkled cereal over.

“Not sure I’ll ever get over that,” Emily muttered, drawing a laugh from Lena.

“If you’re not used to it by now, I doubt you’ll ever be, love,” Lena winked before turning away to grab out a pair of spoons. “C’mon. Kettle’ll take a few and I  _ hate _ soggy cereal.”

“Usually you’re a fan of soggy things,” Emily murmured through a smirk. “Or should I say wet things?”

“Depends on how long you want breakfast to last, love,” Lena sighed contentedly. Her libido was something of a joke between them - Emily often said that she could do literally anything and turn Lena on.

For what it was worth, Lena agreed.

They sat down on the couch, angling slightly toward each other - Emily sat straight with her back against the couch cushions and Lena splayed back against the soft, padded arm of the couch, entangling their legs at random around the knee somewhere just to maintain a little bodily contact as they ate. They’d been apart for long enough - even though it had only been a week or so, neither of them wanted to waste an opportunity to be  _ together. _

Which was half of why Emily was so tired. She yawned again, spoon stalling halfway to her lips.

Tracer, on the other hand, had almost boundless energy - plus, she was excited to try this new cereal! She took a big spoonful of milk and cereal, and plunged it deep into her mouth.

The Cheerios crunched perfectly between her teeth, the cold milk splashing over her tongue having been sweetened by the contact. Not syrupy or sugary, though - just a hint, just a brush of flowery sweetness on her tongue, and followed up by that full, round, thick flavour of oat and nut and honey.

Tracer cleared her throat a little as the flavours spilled over themselves in a tumult, filling her mouth on top of the other sensations of temperature and texture; the perfect blend, the perfect mixture, and for just an instant she lost herself to it.

“...oh wow,” she muttered swiftly under her breath as she buried the spoon quickly into her bowl again, her heartrate quickening a little at the way the metal split the floating Os. The second one was even better than the first, her mouth having been prepared by the prior taste only a moment ago.

Her second go was less shocking, less abrupt - the cold milk didn’t send that same sharp snap through her skin, it sank in softly as the flavours flowed again and a tiny noise escaped from Tracer’s nose, some soft little entreatment for  _ more. _

A small soft ripple of a shiver ran down her spine, and on her next mouthful she noticed goosebumps raising on her arms. The third was even better, the taste seeming to sink down her spine and straight to her gut, straight into the  _ heat _ that was rising there.

_ Uh-oh. _

Lena’s eyes widened a little bit as she realized what she was feeling - or what she was  _ starting _ to feel, at least. Her stomach growled for more, desperately hungry, but there was a  _ deeper _ hunger below that, a deeper desire.

Deeper below that, both literally and metaphorically.

She took another mouthful and had to struggle not to gasp, catching her breath behind her teeth and involuntarily biting at the chilled metal of the spoon as her tongue swirled over it, chasing every hint of milk from its surface, and she could  _ feel _ a moan working its way up her throat. It wanted to be free. It wanted to fly.

That was when Emily hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm, yup. Pretty much how I remember ‘em - pretty good.” She ate another mouthful as if it was of no consequence, and then raised an eyebrow to Lena. “What do you think, love?”

Tracer took a little breath, not realizing that her mouth hung slightly open as she stared at Emily’s lips, a whole lot of thoughts running through her head. Tongue and Cheerios and lips and mouths and milk and skin all tumbling over each other in a torrent that rippled across her skin and down her spine and fanned the flames growing deep inside of her, and she swallowed back a moan as her legs tensed up involuntarily.

“Y-” she cleared her throat, shrugging a shoulder and trying not to think about how perfectly delicious that mix of savoury and sweet was, “yeah, they’re uh…” she mostly suppressed a shiver. “They’re pretty good, I guess. Nothing uh… out of the ordinary.”

Except for the fact that she was getting turned on by a breakfast cereal. That was a  _ little _ bit out of the ordinary, but she couldn’t stop thinking about, couldn’t stop herself from wanting more, and every thought just fanned the flames higher, and every effort  _ not _ to think about it just sharpened the whole situation with a taboo angle that had Lena struggling to stifle a rough groan.

She caught that slightly suspicious look in Emily’s eyes, though - she  _ knew _ that the redhead knew something was up, and it only became clear as those lips twisted into a smirk and an eyebrow raised. Emily set her bowl down and crossed her arms, and Tracer’s eyes lingered on that abandoned bowl, distant and out of reach, and she  _ wanted  _ it.

“Oh really?” Emily’s voice drew her eyes sharply back, snapping over. Emily was wearing a face of open disbelief. “You know, if you don’t like ‘em, that’s okay. It’s not like I’m going to tell on you to Winston! You can set ‘em down if you like, love - I’ll make you some toast.”

“N-no,” Lena insisted, stammering slightly and clearing her throat. “No, I really  _ do _ like them.”

Emily, still disbelieving, rolled her eyes. “Alright then,” she sighed, raising an eyebrow with a grin. “If you’re all committed to the bit, then - go on,  _ prove  _ it.”

“P-prove it?” Her eyes flicked nervously to the bowl in front of her. Every perfect floating O was coated in a thin glistening sheen of milk, and she struggled to stifle a wriggle borne deep inside. 

She mostly succeeded, just shifting slightly against the couch.

She couldn’t admit to the truth. She couldn’t own up and say she was getting turned on by a bowl of cereal.

“Yeah, prove it,” Emily snickered, “if you  _ love them _ so much, go on - let’s see you eat some.” She fixed her girlfriend with an amused smirk. Sometimes Lena got it into her mind that things were a certain way, and there were a few ways of kind of pulling her out of it. Outright confronting her with the truth was usually the nub of it.

“Mm-mmkay,” Tracer swallowed heavily, her heart kicking up another notch at the way Emily’s eyes studied her. She’d always loved those eyes, and now they were on her like a hawk - narrowed, hooded, studious, her lips quirked in a little smirk, crossed arms supporting her chest.

...and she was  _ watching. _

Lena shivered just slightly as she lifted the bowl and took her spoon in hand, her chest rolling with a deep breath - she could  _ smell _ them and it was practically teasing her, the sweet scent sneaking in through her nose and climbing into her brain, stirring her mind with promises of sweetness and  _ satisfaction _ .

She picked up a spoonful of the cereal, and it was  _ ridiculous _ but she couldn’t deny it anymore. As her lips closed around the spoon, the barest chill instilled in the metal leaping straight into her flesh, she locked eyes with Emily watching her. Those gorgeous hazel eyes fixed on the spoon as Lena slurped its contents free, and she couldn’t fight it anymore.

Her legs shook a little bit as she swallowed down her mouthful, and a tiny plaintive noise escaped her nose unbidden. When had she closed her eyes? She couldn’t remember closing them, but they were shut now - shut and rolled back into her head as she felt the cool mass slide down her throat, and along with it ran an electric thrill down her spine. Her hairs stood straight up now, goosebumps standing out starkly on her skin.

“S-see?” She cleared her throat and forced her eyes open, flashing Emily what she hoped would be a reassuring smile, and hoping to see an eyeroll or some demonstration of good humour.

What she got instead was a slack-jawed and wide-eyed stare, Emily’s eyes locked directly onto hers. “Oh… my god,” Emily murmured softly, leaning forward and squinting. “Oh my god! You- you  _ do _ like them, huh? You like them  _ a lot _ , don’t you?”

Lena cleared her throat, well aware of the blush creeping into her cheeks. Almost as aware as she was of the chilled bowl resting against the tense muscles of her stomach, the smooth surface against her skin - there was a droplet of milk creeping down the side, she could see it out of the corner of her eye, and she held her breath and just hoped it wouldn’t slide any lower.

It did.

She let out a  swift but slight exhalation as the cold drop slipped down and ran onto the sensitive skin next to her belly button, inspiring a whole new rush of goosebumps and heat.

“D-dunno what you’re talking about, love,” Lena assured breathlessly, blushing heavily and meeting Emily’s eyes. They narrowed just a little more, but she didn’t say anything. Didn’t say anything, just started leaning forward.

Tracer’s heart raced even faster as Emily approached. Long, slender, delicate fingers reached out and Lena gasped slightly as they brushed against the metal handle of the spoon.

“W-whatcha doin’ there?” She managed a chuckle but couldn’t pull her eyes away from Emily’s hand taking a firm hold of the spoon and starting to lift it from the bowl of cereal with deliberate, teasing slowness. Her eyebrows pulled sharply out and down, her lips forming soundless vowels of desperation as her breaths rushed hot and heavy.

“Trying something.” That was Emily’s only response.

Lena just nodded, the power of speech largely robbed from her - her mind was a hot whirl of sensations and stimuli, scents and tastes and sights, and all of the rest of her felt like a raging inferno which could only be sated by cool milk and that savoury-sweet flavour. She licked at her lips hungrily, lustily, desperately as Emily moved closer.

The redhead raised the spoon and paused with it at Lena’s lips, close enough for her to  _ smell _ it - close enough that she could have stuck her tongue out and reached it. She tried, but Emily tugged the spoon back with a little disapproving noise.

“Ah-ah,” Emily chuckled deep in her chest as Lena whimpered softly. “I told you I’m trying something.”

“Are you seriously teasing me with a spoonful of cereal right now?” Her words rushed out, breathless and heated and wanton as her eyes flashed to Emily’s. “God I love you so much.”

Emily chuckled softly again. “I would appear to be doing just that, wouldn’t I? And I know you do. Now  _ shhh…”  _ She raised a finger of her other hand and touched it to Lena’s lips, then replaced that fingertip with the spoon.

She made Lena wait for it.

Everything inside of Lena screamed for that mouthful, to reach out and take what was right there at her lips - she could smell it, she could feel it, she could  _ practically _ taste it but she wanted to strike the  _ practically  _ right out. In that moment, she needed it as much as she’d ever needed anything.

Heavy breaths rushed through her, her spine rolling along with them and with every lungful the pace of her heart picked up. Hot blood pumped to every extremity, desperate to heighten the sensations she knew she was soon to be feeling; her throat made noises unbidden, low growling grunts and high keening whines that leapt freely from her, half-muffled by lips that she kept sealed shut.

The finger that Emily had quieted her with rested on her chin, and tugged lightly down - Lena opened her mouth obediently, moaning as Emily tipped the spoonful back and then pulled the spoon free and sealed it with her own mouth.

Tracer shook violently, the tension that had built up unleashing itself in rough shivers that wracked her small frame - she spilled milk from the bowl on her belly and gasped, yelped into Emily’s mouth but a hand caught her hair and held her there as she sank into a bliss beyond conscious thought, losing herself to a wave of chills and sweetness and heat and lust.

 

\---

 

Two hours later, she and Emily lay breathlessly on the floor. Cheerios were scattered everywhere - in their hair, stuck to their skin, covering the floor. They panted in unison, hands clasped together and laying side-by-side.

“Okay,” Lena sighed contentedly, “I think I owe Winston a thank-you note for that.”

“Mmmm,” Emily hummed with a smile, turning onto her side and kissing Lena’s cheek. “Agreed. I’ll write him one as well.”

“Maybe-” Lena gasped in a breath, “maybe leave some of the details out though.”

Emily laughed brightly. “Oh, you think so, do you? Well, we’ll see about that…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Honey Nut Cheerios. They're a honey of an O!"_ <\- legitimate Cheerios advertising slogan. Seriously.
> 
> This started as a suggestion/recommendation when we were talking about the prompt "It's not a kink if you write it wholesomely". I asked for a kink to use, and somebody suggested "getting aroused by breakfast cereal", and we laughed at that, but it didn't quite fit the prompt, exactly. Not precisely an established kink. However, it was out there, and then idea came up - what about the opposite? Could one take something innocent, and make it sexual - not through the introduction of sexual intercourse (which you'll notice is faded entirely) but rather, solely through the introduction of focus and language that makes it _feel_ sexual?
> 
> ...and this is what we got. I daresay there's at least a measure of success here.
> 
> What was my goal? Quite frankly, my goal was to quicken your heartrate even a percent, to raise the heat under your collar by even a degree, to have you realize quite suddenly that your mouth was actually a little bit dry and suddenly the room was a bit too warm to be comfortable, and to do it all through nothing more than careful description of Tracer eating Cheerios.
> 
> I _do_ love a challenge :D
> 
> One more note: as much as I'd love to, I can't in good conscience integrate this as part of BSN canon. Lena's a _morning person_ here, tsk tsk, and that just simply won't do. Sorry folks - in BSN, Tracer only gets turned on by three things: Em, Widdy, and Frosted Flakes. XD
> 
> I hope you liked this, folks! Some cute and sweet and silly things too, of course, because you know I can't pass those up! C'mon back later for more Certified Good Stuff from our fine gaggle of authors, here - hope you have a good day!


	24. Sore Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a month-long mission, Fareeha's hands are very sore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's TheSoundOfThunderstorms again with more Pharmercy. The prompt is 'hand massage for sore hands'. Hope you enjoy :)

She felt terrible.

Shards of what used to be her cup littered the floor. The dark liquid of her tea was splattered across the tile. Some of it landed on the bottom of Fareeha’s pants. She just stood there staring at the mess. Because there was nothing she could do about it without making things worse. Her hands ached and just wouldn’t stop shaking.

Fareeha felt the embarrassment flushing her face. It was a hot, uncomfortable feeling that grew in intensity the longer she stared. The sound of footsteps caught her attention. After what felt like an eternity, Fareeha managed to turn away from the mess to see Angela standing in the kitchen doorway, surprise coloring her face.

“Fareeha…”

Somehow, the small smile and the concern held in blue eyes helped take the edge off the anxiety bubbling in her system. There was a certain ease that flooded her body when Angela took hold of her hand, bringing her to sit down. So, she nodded when a soft voice asked her to stay there.

When Angela turned away, a frown overtook her lips. Fareeha’s hand was tremoring. It explained the broken cup and why she still hadn’t said a word. She sighed quietly to herself at the implication. For the moment, she just focused on making a new cup of tea.

Fareeha snapped out of her haze of thoughts when steaming cup was placed in front of her accompanied by a gentle kiss to her temple. She took note of how the cup was plastic and smiled at the thoughtful gesture. She made sure to grip it with both hands, watching with guilty eyes as Angela started cleaning up the mess.

She thought she was paying attention. Evidently, she wasn’t. Because when Angela took the seat next to her, Fareeha was genuinely surprised to see her there.

“I thought you were going to bed earlier?” When Fareeha got back from her assignment that night, Angela could clearly see the fatigue on her face. She was the one to drag her to bed in the first place.

 “I…” Fareeha dropped the empty cup in her hands, mouth hanging open at the mishap. “I tried.” She tried for hours, lying on her stomach with her hands throbbing above her head. “It’s just,” Fareeha placed both hands on the table, “they hurt so much.” If she concentrated enough, it still felt like she was holding onto her rocket launcher.

It all made sense now. Angela understood exactly what was happening. She quickly reached down and picked up the fallen cup, getting up to place it near the sink. When she got back to Fareeha, Angela reached out her hand. “Come on.”

Fareeha took hold of Angela’s hand and walked with her out of the kitchen. It wasn’t a long walk once Fareeha realized they were headed towards the med-bay. Before she knew it, she was already in one of the beds, the soft throw she gave Angela as a gift covering her waist.

“I’ll be just a minute.”

It really was just a minute because Angela was in the bed beside her in the blink of an eye.

“Hopefully this will work. Because I want you to sleep. And I want you to have a good sleep.” Angela opened the bottle of lotion in her hands and squeezed some onto her palm. She warmed it up a bit before taking one Fareeha’s hands.

The lotion felt nice. It was warm and smelled comforting. For a moment, that’s all she could concentrate on as Angela worked the lotion on her hand. And then she felt a pinch on the top of her finger. The effect was instant because Fareeha could feel the pain lessen from the simple pressure. And it was like magic as Angela continued to squeeze the rest of her fingers.

Fareeha found herself leaning on Angela’s shoulder, smiling at the pain relief and the concentrated furrow of blonde eyebrows. “You know, I didn’t even notice the pain until the mission was over.”

“That sounds just like you. Too focused on keeping everyone else safe that you forget about yourself.” Angela started working circles into Fareeha’s palm.

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“It’s just, I could have sworn you were describing yourself.”

Angela dropped the hand she held, reaching out for Fareeha’s other hand. “And maybe that’s why I like you so much. We both share quite interesting qualities.” She smiled when Fareeha took the opportunity to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

She could feel the sleep setting in, now that the pain in her hands was reduced to a dull throb. “Can I stay here?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Okay, one more question.”

She intertwined their fingers, already knowing what the question was going to be. “And what would that be?”

“Stay here with me? At least until I fall asleep. I’ve missed you.”

Angela couldn’t say that she didn’t feel the same way. It seemed like Fareeha was gone for longer that a month. Fareeha was assigned that long mission right when she had gotten used to falling asleep in her arms. “Alright, until you fall asleep.” She reached down for the throw and pulled it over them both. A quick, polite question to Athena and the lights were dimmed.

-

Fareeha woke up to the sound of the med-bay doors opening. A guilty looking Lena gave her an apologetic smile when she realized what was happening.

“Sorry about that.” Lena used both hands to gesture towards Fareeha and the still sleeping doctor. “Didn’t know you two had important stuff going on.” She quickly grabbed the little first aid kit from a shelf and started backtracking towards the doors. “Just gotta patch myself up. Cut myself in the kitchen.” A pause. “But I suppose that’s what happens when you walk around without any shoes.”

Fareeha watched with guilty eyes as Lena walked out of the med-bay without another word. She’d have to apologize eventually because it was her fault Lena got hurt in the first place. For now though, the guilt would have to wait. At least until Angela woke up.

 

 


	25. Blue Hoodies and Victory Fries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha lends a couple of hoodies to a girl who accidentally ripped her pants on campus and finds something a lot sweeter than she expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! It's aizia and I’m here with the “Rip My Pants” prompt. A couple of notes:  
> 1\. This is a university AU! It’s set at UBC because a) that’s where I go and b) the lore seems to support Fareeha going there canonically, too. As an aside if you go to UBC please tell me because omg it will make my month if another UBC student reads this.  
> 2\. Angela and Fareeha are the same age in this AU.  
> 3\. Hope you enjoy 3k words of fluff! lol  
> 4\. ~~I know very little about basketball~~

The professor clasped her hands together. “Have a good weekend, and I’ll see you all on Monday.”

 

Sighing in relief, Fareeha closed her laptop and shoved it in her case. In her haste to stand up, she forgot about the pencil case open on her lap, and all her pencils and pens fell to the auditorium floor. Cursing under her breath, she scrambled to grab the ones that had rolled underneath the rows of chairs. She counted eleven by the time she was done—one pivotal one was missing.

 

Her lovely black uniball pen. The only one she really cared about.

 

She despaired silently until a loud, tearing noise from her left grabbed her attention.

 

 _Riiiip_.

 

The blonde girl who usually sat beside Fareeha appeared to be frozen in a half-squat, face tomato-red, eyes like saucers. She shakily stood up when she noticed Fareeha’s gaze, eyes pleading as she handed Fareeha her missing uniball pen.

 

“I, uh…,” the girl squeaked, “found it next to my seat.”

 

“Did you…” Fareeha grasped for words, waved her hand in the general vicinity of the girl’s pants. _Lord, s_ he’d been thinking about starting a conversation with Pretty Blonde in Biology (PBiB) for two weeks, and apparently that was all she could get out of her mouth. Go figure.

 

The girl nodded vigorously. “They’re ripped,” she whispered.

 

_PBiB is in front of you. She’s embarrassed. Help her._

 

“You can tie this around your waist,” Fareeha said, finding her voice. She pulled off her blue hoodie.

 

The girl thanked her and did so, but the rip still showed at the front, exposing a small stretch of her inner thigh.

 

Fareeha flushed. Her eyes flickered elsewhere. “I have another hoodie in my bag you can tie around your front too, if you want.”

 

The girl nodded gratefully. She tied the second hoodie so it knotted in the back, and Fareeha smiled at the makeshift skirt.

 

“It’s a Look,” Fareeha said. The girl laughed, and Fareeha felt herself smile.

 

“I’m Fareeha, by the way.”

 

“Angela. Nice to meet you, even under these circumstances.”

 

Fareeha gestured to the two hoodies tied around Angela’s waist. “Maybe you’ll start a trend. You never know.”

 

Angela snorted. “I somehow doubt it.” She eyed the door, pursing her lips. “I should head to the bookstore and buy some overpriced sweatpants so I can head home.” Her expression turned sheepish. “Would you mind coming with so I can wear your hoodies in the meantime?”

 

Fist-pumping internally at the excuse to spend a bit more time with her, Fareeha nodded, played it cool. “Yeah, of course.”

 

Few people paid Angela’s ‘Look’ any mind (it was university, after all—Fareeha had seen fifteen weirder and less explicable things in just her first week).

 

“Are you an international student too?” Angela asked. Crisp leaves crunched under their feet as they walked.

 

Fareeha shook her head. “Not really. My dad is local. I came to live with him at the beginning of high school. My mom is in the Egyptian military, and though it was fun to move all around with her when I was younger, it was starting to interfere with school, and she didn’t want me to get behind. So… here I am.”

 

Angela hummed in contemplation. “Do you ever miss your mom?”

 

“Yeah,” Fareeha said. “I see her twice a year…” she scratched her chin. “But yeah. Do you miss your parents?”

 

She smiled distantly, in a way that made Fareeha feel like she was missing something important. “Yeah. I do.”

 

Angela crossed her arms over her chest, and Fareeha felt like she should change the subject. “So, what’s Switzerland like? I’ve never been.”

 

“It’s… wait. How did you know?”

 

Fareeha grinned. “Lucky guess.”

 

“Seriously?” She asked, eyes wide.

 

Fareeha couldn’t help but laugh. “Your backpack has a Swiss flag pin on it.”

 

Angela covered her face. “I’m an idiot.”

 

Fareeha shrugged. “You seem pretty cute and smart for an idiot.”

 

Angela made a noise like a squeak, muffled by her hands. “You’re making it worse.”

 

Fareeha grinned at how easy it was to fluster her. She’d show her mercy, though—she waited until Angela calmed and then changed the subject. “So you live fairly close?”

 

Angela nodded. “Fifteen minute bus ride.”

 

“I was gonna live with my dad,” Fareeha said, “but I’m on campus most of the time, now—I’m on the basketball team.”

 

Angela smiled sheepishly. “I know.”

 

“You should come to a game sometime,” Fareeha blurted. “Wait, you know?”

 

“My roommate dragged me to one of your home games a couple weeks ago, actually. She insisted—she thinks I study too hard. So I might have seen you play already.” Angela coughed to hide a smile. “Twice, actually.”

 

“You went again?”

 

Angela smiled. “The second time was a little more voluntary.”

 

Fareeha felt light in her chest. “I didn’t know I had a fan.”

 

Angela bumped their shoulders together. “Oh please,” she said, and Fareeha could hear the smile in her voice. “The blue and yellow jersey does suit you, though.”

 

“That was why I picked this school.”

 

Angela laughed. “Of course.”

 

Fareeha was almost disappointed when their walk ended—the bookstore had come into view around the corner.

 

Inside, Angela pulled out some grey sweats from a pile, _Thunderbirds_ written down their side in black lettering. She held them out for Fareeha. “What do you think of these ones?”

 

“Very college chic.” Fareeha grinned. “I’m sure anything would look good on you.”

 

Angela flushed again. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

 

“Maybe so. But I only speak the truth,” Fareeha said.

 

Angela shook her head, hiding her smile with a pursed lip. “I’m heading to the check-out.”

 

Fareeha waited in the central clothing area, browsing through more hoodies she wanted but _really_ didn’t need. After purchasing the pants, Angela returned to put them on in the change room. She came out with both of Fareeha’s loaned hoodies on one arm and her ripped pants on the other.

 

She extended the hoodie-holding arm to Fareeha. “Thanks so much for letting me borrow them.”

 

Fareeha only took one of the hoodies offered back to her. Angela gave her a questioning look. “Keep the other,” Fareeha clarified.

 

“Really?” Angela looked torn. “I couldn’t—“

 

“I want you to have it,” Fareeha said, soft and a little sheepish. “Blue looks nice on you, too.”

 

Angela studied her for a moment, and then laughed softly. “You’re unreal.”

 

“In a good way?”

 

“Yes. In a good way.” Angela pulled Fareeha into a light hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

Fareeha was halfway back to her dorm by the time she was able to process Angela’s statement. _I’ll see you tomorrow?_ They didn’t have class together tomorrow.

 

She’d probably just meant next Tuesday.

 

***

 

Fareeha went to bed early that night, wanting to be rested for the following day’s game. Her mind didn’t immediately succumb to sleep, though, and she found her thoughts drifting to Angela: how she’d ask her on their first date, the puns she’d tell her to get her to laugh, the way she’d hold her hand under rows of autumnal trees.

 

She was probably getting ahead of herself.

 

***

 

By the end of the first quarter, the other team had a slight lead, but Fareeha was still confident they could pull through. She was only getting warmed up, after all.

 

Halfway through the second quarter, Fareeha noticed her in the stands. Angela smiled sweetly, evidently happy to be noticed, raising a blue arm to wave.

 

She was wearing the hoodie.

 

Fareeha was completely certain giving her the hoodie was the best decision she could have made, then—there was something endearing about it being just a little too big on her, and the blue seemed to bring out her eyes…

 

 _God Fareeha,_ she thought to herself, _It’s just a hoodie. You’re gay._

 

Angela’s words from the previous day hit her then: _I’ll see you tomorrow?_

 

Ah.

 

Suddenly something heavy whammed into her stomach. “Oof,” she groaned, falling gracelessly on her ass.

 

“AMARI,” Aleks shouted across the court in her heavy Russian accent, “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO CATCH.”

 

“I got that,” Fareeha choked out. The ball was immediately seized by the other team.

 

“ARE YOU OKAY?” Aleks shouted.

 

“I’m fine,” she called back. The embarrassment did not recede quite as quickly as the pain, but she got her head in the game enough to assist a couple of baskets by the time the half-time break started.

 

Fareeha felt it was safe to catch Angela’s eyes again during the break. She gestured to her own jersey, pointed to Angela, and then gave her a thumbs up, mouthing _nice hoodie._

 

Angela smiled at her lap. Fareeha grinned back at her.

 

Aleks eventually seemed to put two and two together. As the half-time break ended, she patted Fareeha’s shoulder. “Try to not be useless lesbian next time.”

 

Fareeha saluted. “I promise to be a useful lesbian.”

 

Aleks squinted at her for a moment, and then laughed loudly. She gave Fareeha’s back something between a pat and a gentle slap before she wandered off to drink some water.

 

Angela gave Fareeha a quick wink and a thumbs up before they got back into the game. Fareeha floated onto the court.

 

 _Alright_ , Fareeha told herself. _Focus. Channel that gay energy into something useful._

 

Aleks swatted the ball onto their side of the court—at 6’5, she rarely lost the jump ball—and Fareeha caught it after a bounce, dribbled to the court’s midline. She continued on, but as expected, her check cornered her, and she swerved and chest-passed to their point guard, Sombra, nearby. Their best handler, she skillfully dodged their opponents. Fareeha ran to the hoop, waiting for her pass. Sombra went with a bounce pass, and Fareeha shuffled away from her check to catch it.

 

Her check was guarding her closely. She’d need to be quick and tricky to pull this off.

 

She dribbled to her left, and then rapidly switched to her right, dribbling until she got into a position she could work with.

 

She had a split second to size up the hoop.

 

_Don’t think about Angela._

 

The ball curled nicely off her fingertips, but it was quickly swatted backwards by the enemy team. Not allowing herself time to curse, she sprinted after the ball. Through sheer speedy determination, she got ahold of the it again, dribbling back to the hoop. She got into her sweet spot this time—as close as she could to the hoop, on its left side. She did a precise spin, and…

 

_Swoosh._

 

_A clean shot. Nice._

 

The scores changed—40/40.

 

The other team ran off with the ball, and Fareeha went on the defensive. She felt energized—her running felt faster, her shots more accurate.

 

She scored another twelve points by the end of the game, nailing a few three pointers that normally made her uncertain. They quickly surpassed the other team.

 

She was on some kind of roll.

 

When the buzzer went off, Emily was the first to run towards Fareeha. Her hug was practically a collision. “Dude,” she said, “that was amazing.”

 

Aleks joined in the embrace, lifting Fareeha and Emily a couple inches off the ground. “Is the pretty girl your good luck charm?”

 

Fareeha just laughed. “Maybe.”

 

After a quick debrief with the rest of the team (most of it spent planning a victory fries outing later that evening), Fareeha jogged up the stands, happy that Angela had stayed.

 

“Fareeha!” Angela smiled, meeting her halfway down the stands’s wide staircase. She gestured to the girl beside her. “This is my roommate, Lena.”

 

Lena’s eyes bugged out of her face. “You two _know_ each other?”

 

Fareeha laughed a little nervously. “We have a biology class together. We only really started talking yesterday.”

 

Lena smirked, raised an eyebrow. “A biology class, huh?” She winked at Fareeha.

 

Fareeha could see Angela refraining herself from rolling her eyes. “Lena, please.”

 

“I can’t help it, Ange. You give me all these opportunities…”

 

Angela gave Fareeha a look, like _you see who I have to live with?,_ though it was laced with a certain measure of fondness that almost betrayed her sentiment.

 

Fareeha just smiled fondly back. Angela tucked a lock of hair behind her ear at Fareeha’s warm gaze.

 

_Cute._

 

Fareeha remembered with a start what she had come up here for. “Are you guys into victory fries?”

 

“Victory fries?”

 

***

 

The basketball team crowded around the largest table at McDonalds, Angela’s knees against Fareeha’s own on the hard plastic bench.

 

In a break in conversation, Fareeha introduced Angela and Lena to the rest of the team, and Emily immediately piped up, “Can you come to every game now, Angela? Fareeha does best when you’re here.”

 

Angela laughed, but her eyes were curious when she turned to Fareeha. “You do?”

 

Fareeha ran a hand through her hair, embarrassed. “They think you’re my good luck charm.”

 

“I’d believe it,” Brigitte said, sipping her smoothie.

 

“I’d be willing to go to a few more games,” Angela said, smiling privately at Fareeha, whose stomach flipped warmly.

 

Brigitte and Aleks eventually settled into a long conversation about lifting, and it wasn’t long before Sombra and Satya kicked off one of their usual tech-versations that Fareeha could rarely follow. In an interesting and less predictable development, Emily and Lena became blind to anyone else but the other.

 

Fareeha couldn’t help but glance at them every so often—Emily was listening to Lena babble on, a hand propping up her chin, her smile soft and sincere and attentive. Emily’s hand lingered for a moment on her shoulder; Lena’s blush was visible.

 

(It was sweet, actually.)

 

For the most part, Fareeha and Angela were left to each other. Over a medium fries, Angela shared her dreams of becoming a doctor, doing research, and helping where it was needed most.

 

Fareeha wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen someone with so much passion in their eyes in a McDonald’s before. “That’s amazing.”

 

Angela smiled, but waved her off. “What about you?”

 

“Well, I’m studying engineering. Most of all, though, I want to help people. I want to protect people. I think that’s what I’m here to do.”

 

Angela smiled softly at her. “I think so, too.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. I mean… aside from the fact that you saved my ass yesterday, and maybe a bit more literally than I would have liked…” Angela started, and Fareeha laughed, “you have this aura to you. You make people feel safe and comfortable.” Angela studied the empty red fry-box on the table for a moment. “That’s how you make _me_ feel.”

 

Fareeha was so touched by the admission she didn’t know what to say. Thoughtfully, she eyed her team around her, still caught up in their own conversations, and then asked softly, “Do you want to buy some ice cream and go somewhere quieter?”

 

Angela smiled gently and nodded. She took Fareeha’s hand after they had ordered their cones and left the restaurant, and Fareeha couldn’t shake her smile—at the way Angela’s hair fluttered in the crisp fall breeze, at how soft and sure Angela’s hand felt in hers, at the blue hoodie still peaking through Angela’s jean jacket.

 

Maybe she was getting ahead of herself.

 

(But maybe that was okay).

 

 

The campus was fairly deserted, even for a Saturday. They worked on their cones in comfortable silence, and Fareeha led Angela to the rose garden at the north of the campus.

 

They sat down on a bench overlooking the ocean—it was chilly, and Angela shuffled closer to Fareeha, who made to lift an arm around Angela before quickly dropping it. _What if it was too much?_

 

Angela looked like she was trying very hard to contain her smile. Fareeha’s face went hot. She thought she’d been subtle.

 

“Fareeha?” Angela asked.

 

“Yes?”

 

Angela looked to the sky, paused as if she’d just come to a grand realization. “I think… I’d like your arm around me.”

 

Fareeha looked down, laughed in embarrassment, but did as requested. Angela’s smile was teasing as she rested her head on Fareeha’s shoulder.

 

 

Before they parted that night—after Fareeha walked Angela to the bus stop—Angela pressed a soft kiss to Fareeha’s cheek. “I’ll see you in class?”

 

Fareeha blinked before breaking into a smile. She ran a hand through her hair, tried to play it cool. “Yeah, for sure.”

 

She couldn’t stop grinning on the walk back to her dorm.

 

***

 

_Two years later_

 

The older professor smiled as he dismissed the class. “Have a good weekend. Don’t forget your third assignment is due next Thursday.”

 

Fareeha closed her laptop and shoved it in her case. She speed-walked to her and Angela’s dorm, quietly unlocking the door and tiptoeing to the bed. Angela blinked tiredly, still curled up under the duvet.

 

“Didn’t mean to wake you up,” Fareeha whispered. Angela shook her head—she never really minded—and wordlessly lifted up the duvet. Fareeha crawled in, sighing in relief when her sleep-deprived limbs finally relaxed. She wrapped her arms around Angela, who shifted to rest partway on top of Fareeha.

 

They’d moved into a dorm together the autumn of their senior year—two years after they’d met. Fareeha particularly enjoyed their post-class naps.

 

(Really, though, she liked doing anything with Angela).

 

Their relationship had grown into something strong and deep, resilient against life’s ups and downs. It was soft and comforting, above all—Fareeha felt more content than she ever had.

 

Needless to say, she’d spent the last two years falling in love with Angela Ziegler.

 

“Can I say something?” Fareeha asked.

 

Angela lifted her head up from Fareeha’s chest, brows raised. “Yeah?”

 

“I’m so glad you ripped your pants that day.”

 

Angela cracked up. She gave Fareeha a quick, feather-light kiss. “I would have ripped all of my pants that day if it meant I got to meet you.”

 

Fareeha was touched. “I’d rip all my pants _and_ my shirts for you.”

 

Angela furrowed her brows in mock-offence. “Are you one-upping me?”

 

“Can’t help it. I love you too much.”

 

“You’re cheesy,” Angela said, but her misty smile betrayed her sentiment. Fareeha caught her in a sleepy kiss, hands rubbing her back soothingly.

 

Angela smiled gently when they parted. She rested her head back down, and Fareeha ran her hands through Angela’s soft hair for a few moments before she fell asleep.

 

_This was what she loved most._

 


	26. Warming up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a few years without seeing each other, Angela and Fareeha meet up to catch up, they both missed their friend after all. But a little accident will pull them closer together (literally).

Angela was sitting in the small café that was inside the airport, an empty cup of chocolate on her table. She was browsing her phone when someone patted her shoulder. She turned around and couldn’t contain her smile when she saw who it was.

Fareeha was standing in front of her, her luggage consisted only of a duffle bag that was on the ground beside her. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Only three years.” Angela stood up from the stool to embrace Fareeha in a tight hug. After a long moment, they gently pulled away from each other and Angela checked her wrist watch. “Your flight arrived early. Good thing I did too. How have you been, Fareeha?”

“I’m good. Things have been a little weird at Helix but I’ll tell you with more detail later. How about you?”

“Since you said you were available to come visit and I didn’t go to the Middle East right away, these last few days that I’ve spent here have been pretty relaxing. I feel I owe you something just for that.”

Fareeha laughed. “I can settle with some food, your treat?”

Angela thought for a second. “There’s a good place that you may like. And it’s also on the way to my apartment.”

“What? No homemade food? Or you’re going to tell me that you only have instant noodles at your place?” Fareeha asked with a smirk.

Angela turned a slight shade of red before she playfully swatted her friend’s arm. “I don’t do that anymore! My days as an intern that functioned on an instant noodles diet are long gone. I don’t know why you always have to bring that back.” Angela reproached her, but with a smile.

“If I don’t take care of you, who’s gonna do it?” Fareeha had a cheeky grin.

Angela rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. “Fair enough. But not one more mention of instant noodles or I’ll feed you only that until you return to Egypt.”

Fareeha slid her index finger and thumb over her mouth, making Angela laugh. They grabbed their things and exited the airport.

~ ~ ~

“…I just wanted to help him, but he was being so obnoxious and there were more people waiting for my assistance. So I pulled the Caduceus Staff from the other room and I told him ‘Your injuries require me to administer antibiotics via injection’ and I’m not kidding, he turned pale so fast before he fainted.” Fareeha laughed at Angela’s story. “After that I treated him and carried on with the rest of the refugees.”

Angela and Fareeha had a hearty meal at a nearby restaurant and now they were making their way to Angela’s apartment. The day was clear and they had decided not to take a cab, the apartment wasn’t far after all. They were talking, catching up on everything that had been going on with their lives when Fareeha saw a frozen lake. She gazed at it curiously and then she remembered something.

“That’s the lake my mom used to take me to when I visited the base!” Fareeha ran feeling once again like a kid with Angela in tow. They stopped at the edge of the lake and Fareeha dropped her duffle bag on the ground. “My mom taught me how to skate here.”

“I remember now!” Angela piped up. “You were so small then.” She giggled.

“I blame the cold. As soon as I went back with my dad, puberty hit me like a truck.” Fareeha didn’t turn her gaze away from the lake. “I wonder if I still know how to do this.” She gave a few hesitant steps on the ice.

“Be careful.” Angela was watching her with a little bit of worry, although she hoped that nothing bad would happen.

Fareeha didn’t have skates, so she did her best to slide on the ice a few feet at the time. First to her right, then to her left. She tried to do a small twirl but ended up just turning around, facing Angela. Nonetheless her friend clapped, mostly at the fact that she didn’t fall on her ass and Fareeha blushed a little.

Not wanting to run out of luck, Fareeha decided that it was enough goofing around and gave a step forward to get off of the frozen lake. That’s when the ice broke under her feet. Angela saw the face of instant regret Fareeha made a moment before she fell into the water.

Fareeha was almost at the edge of the lake, so the water only reached her up to her chest. However, the freezing temperatures almost made her collapse, but Angela had already run to her side to help her get out of there. In the end Fareeha got out of the water with little effort, but she was practically soaked, while Angela had her upper body drenched and both of them were trembling.

“M-M-My ap-apart… ment…” Angela managed to say.

Fareeha’s teeth were chattering too much, so she just nodded. She picked up her bag and followed Angela as fast as she could.

~ ~ ~

As soon as they entered the apartment, Angela led Fareeha to the bathroom. “T-T-Take off you c-clothes and dry yourself w-with this.” She handed Fareeha a body towel. “Leave them on t-the floor and then come to the couch.” And with that, Angela closed the door, leaving a dumbfounded Fareeha with a blush that went unnoticed.

After a few seconds of hesitation, she talked to herself. “Surely s-s-she meant in my undies, right? Not completely n-n-naked?” Her chattering teeth took her out of her stupor, so she undressed completely and dried herself as best as she could. She took out another set of underwear from her duffle bag, wore it and then put the towel over her shoulders, covering herself as best as she could.

Fareeha exited the bathroom with hesitant steps and made her way to the couch. Angela had moved it so it would be right in front of the small gas fireplace. Fareeha sat and a moment later Angela appeared from her bedroom, carrying a bundle of thick blankets. Fareeha’s heart skipped a beat because for a second she thought Angela was nude under the towel she was covered with. ~~Sadly~~ Thankfully that wasn’t the case, her friend was in the same state of undress as her.

Angela placed the blankets next to Fareeha. “Cover yourself up.”

Fareeha did as she was told, removing the wet towel first and putting it on the floor. Angela checked the logs that were in the fireplace and then she pressed the ignition button beside it, turning the control knob to release the gas. The logs caught fire and Angela gave a step back, giving a nod of approval a moment later.

With the fire lit, Fareeha felt better even though she was still shivering. Then she turned to Angela, who dropped her towel on the floor and Fareeha felt her stomach lurch. Her eyes couldn’t help but give a quick peek at Angela’s body and one word appeared in her mind: _Perfect_. “W-What are you doing? Were y-y-you as wet as me?”

“No, but this way we’ll warm up faster, especially you.” Without hesitation, Angela lifted one end of the blanket, sat next to Fareeha and covered herself with said blanket. Now Fareeha’s stomach was giving somersaults. “Would you put an arm around me? I’d do it to you but you’re way taller than me.” Angela said with a small pout. Fareeha thought that Angela was adorable and complied with the request.

When Fareeha first started her journey to meet her best friend —and longtime crush— after not seeing her for three years, the last thing she expected was to share a blanket with her while both were practically naked… and yet here she was, cuddling with her.

“This is very relaxing, you know?” Angela said, watching the fire, stopping Fareeha’s musings. “I mean, not the whole getting soaked in the frozen lake thing, but being here with you, warming up in front of the fireplace.”

Fareeha didn’t trust her voice at that moment, so she just squeezed Angela’s shoulder gently.

“And your face when you realized you had messed up.” Angela was giggling. “I mean, I feel bad that you fell into the lake, but in hindsight your expression was really funny.” She started laughing and it was contagious, because Fareeha was laughing alongside her in no time.

When they calmed down, Angela turned around and examined Fareeha’s face, the latter feeling the color rising to her cheeks. “Uh…”

“The color’s returning to you, that’s good. And you have stopped shivering.” Angela returned to her original position on the couch. “But you’re still cold.”

Fareeha saw Angela with the deepest fondness. “Thank you for putting up with me, I don’t know what would happen to me if you weren’t in my life.”

“You probably would have drowned in 5 feet of cold water.” Angela said teasingly and Fareeha snorted.

“You’re probably right.”

After that they sat in comfortable silence, the whole situation a soothing one for both of them.

Fareeha’s mind wandered. She thought that being almost naked beside Angela would be very uncomfortable for her, given the crush she developed a long time ago, but that wasn’t the case. After her heart calmed down a bit, Fareeha realized that this felt completely natural for them, if Angela’s content face was anything to go by.

Fareeha thought again for the nth time if confessing her feelings would be ok or not. The reason she hadn’t done so was mostly because they lived very different lives, and their responsibilities were always in the way. But that was the path each of them had willingly chosen.

Angela nodded off and Fareeha instinctively pulled her closer. Angela rested her head on Fareeha’s chest and seemed to doze off. Without being able to stop her hand, Fareeha caressed Angela’s cheek, which apparently, for some reason, caused the latter to press her head harder to Fareeha’s chest. Fareeha’s body stiffened, not sure if she had done something wrong because clearly Angela wasn’t sleeping yet.

After a few seconds Angela raised her head, looking with curiosity at her friend’s face. “I wasn’t imagining things, you were blushing earlier, like you are now.”

Fareeha’s stared at Angela wide-eyed, her mouth trying to form words that her brain refused to think, making her stutter softly.

Angela lowered her head and pressed her ear against Fareeha’s chest again. “Your heart is beating even faster now.” She stopped listening and turned to look intently at her friend. “Do you like me, Fareeha?”

Fareeha’s mouth went dry and she gulped. She was about to panic, but then she put attention to Angela’s eyes. They were soft, tender, and Fareeha knew above all that Angela would be understanding, even if her feelings were not corresponded. Besides, her heart had already betrayed her, so it was no use in denying it.

Fareeha started whispering. It was as if she wanted to exclude the world, her words only meant for Angela. “I like you a lot, you have no idea. I’ve had the biggest crush on you for a long time.”

Angela raised her eyebrows slightly. “Since when?”

“Honestly I cannot remember. I was but a kid and I thought that it would go away as time went by, but it never did.”

“Longer than mine then.”

“Yes, prob—” Fareeha couldn’t finish her sentence, she just looked surprised at how Angela smiled at her.

“I like you a lot too.” Angela moved carefully, trying not to drop the blanket. She straddled Fareeha and placed her hands around her neck. Fareeha put her hands on Angela’s hips, relishing the sensation of being able to hold her like this. “Now that we know that we like each other, I’d very much like to kiss you, is that ok?”

Fareeha nodded slowly, as if she didn’t believe what was happening. She was pretty sure she drowned in the lake and was now in the hospital, hallucinating all of this. But Angela’s lips proved her wrong.

Fareeha closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, her stomach in acrobatics at this point, her heart racing. The kiss was soft and slow, as if they were meeting each other all over again, but more intimately this time. After an eternity that wasn’t long enough for Fareeha, Angela broke the kiss, but only because she needed to breathe.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years now.” A flirty smile appeared on Angela’s face. “But it was worth the wait and we can do it again.”

Angela leaned down for another kiss but Fareeha placed a finger on her lips, stopping her. Angela blinked twice, confused. “I’ve been dreaming for so long about this, you have no idea. But I need to know, is this a one time thing? Do we make out the entire week and then return to our responsibilities as if nothing happened? Or do we try to have a relationship, a real one?”

“You tell me, Fareeha. We have just acted on this lengthy crush, what do you think is the next step?” Angela asked teasingly.

Fareeha’s smile reached her eyes. “We make it work.”

“Yes. Even if the world’s getting weirder, even with your work with Helix and mine in the Middle East, we will find a way to make it work. Besides…” Angela leaned closer to whisper in Fareeha’s ear. “…you look so good in that underwear.”

Fareeha blushed, self-conscious again of their current situation. “What can I say? It’s made of girlfriend material.” She said with a huge grin.

Despite her best effort, Angela laughed at the pun. “Ok, that one’s on me. I walked right into it.”

“I think I need some time to process this. Like, we’re girlfriends now and…”

Angela looked quizzically at Fareeha. “And?”

“Maybe if we keep making out, my brain can take in all this. What do you say, doctor?” Fareeha asked, teasingly.

“Smooth.” Was Angela’s only reply.

Fareeha closed the distance and kissed Angela. Their hands wandered leisurely, feeling goosebumps on each other, despite not being cold anymore.

They kept making out, knowing each other more intimately with each kiss, warming up, and the fire was extinguished long before they were done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, you can find me [here](http://metalwarrior22.tumblr.com).


	27. Sharing Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela comes out of the shower with no clothes to wear. 
> 
> "You can take any of my clothes!"
> 
> "I like what you're wearing right now..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 25: Sharing Clothes by Pharmercy
> 
> Shipping: Pharmercy (duuuuuuuuuuuuh)

It’s a beautiful morning when Angela flutters her eyes open and slowly comes to her senses. Once her vision clears she lays her eyes on what could possibly be the most beautiful sight in the world.

Fareeha, her beautiful, exotic girlfriend, stretched out on the bed, head resting on her arms, hair tucked neatly under her head and a blissful expression on her face. Eyes shut dreamily, a content smile on her lips.

She takes a nice long breath before opening her eyes and letting her head drop to her side. Her smile grows bigger when she spots Angela looking at her happily.

“You’re up.” Fareeha leans to her side to give Angela a quick kiss on her lips before resting on her elbow.

“Good morning, Liebling.” She stretches her arms and legs out too, and the blissful sound of joints popping fills the room. “Last night was one of, if not the best night of my life.” She says and closes her eyes again.

“Why, thank you.” Fareeha says, putting a hand to her heart jokingly. “Was I that good?”

“Fuck yes....”

Fareeha gives a heartly chuckle.

Angela then rolls over and rests her head in the crook of Fareeha’s neck. One of Angela’s hands finds itself draped over Fareeha’s stomach. “My Fareeha…” Angela sighs softly into Fareeha’s neck and giggles. Fareeha giggles too. In her opinion, she was the more lucky one in the relationship. Having Angela Ziegler as her girlfriend? Laying in bed with her comfortably after a passionate night? Being able to kiss her **any time** she wanted? She was the luckier one, no questions asked. Fareeha then begins rubbing slow and gentle circles with her thumb on her angel’s back.

They lay like that for a while, both enjoying each other’s closeness and comfort. Angela was thinking how lucky she is to have a beautiful, caring, loving, brown skinned goddess as her girlfriend while Fareeha recalls the night before’s events. She remembers both of them were so exhausted at the end of the night that they didn’t even shower.

“Angel?” She speaks out softly, continuing to rub soft circles on Angela’s back as Angela melts. 

“Yeah?”

“We should take a shower.”

Angela pokes her head up to take a glimpse of Fareeha’s face. “Hmm? Nein.” She says before dropping her head back down.  
Fareeha giggles again. “We really do, we didn’t take one last night, remember?”

Angela groans and rests her head back on her actual pillow. “Ja, you’re right.” She breaths deeply again before speaking. “You go, I’ll be with you in a few.”

And with that, Fareeha gives Angela a quick kiss again before getting up and entering the bathroom. Angela can’t help herself but look as a fully naked Fareeha enters the bathroom. She chills on the bed for a little while. Fareeha’s bed is really comfortable, Angela should really change the mattress she has in her place.

So, Angela lays there, enjoying the comfort of the mattress, the sound of the water running, and Fareeha’s low humming. She stretches once more before reluctantly joining Fareeha in the shower. 

The next few minutes are spent with giggles, gasps and moans.  


  


* * *

  
Fareeha is the first one to come out, a little weak on her knees, maybe, but still. Her goal was to make breakfast before Angela leaves the shower, but that is put on hold when she takes a good look at her bedroom. 

Clothes tossed around everywhere, sheets and blankets all messed up, empty wine glasses on the nightstand. She goes around cleaning everything. Clothes are put in the washer, she then makes the bed, and finally she picks up the glasses and leaves them in the kitchen.

She was in the middle of making the pancake mix when she heard Angela call for her.

“Fareeha?”

Fareeha stopped what she was doing and jogged back to her room. Angela was in front of the bathroom door, a towel wrapped around her and her hair still wet a little. She looked so beautiful Fareeha forgot she was real for a moment.

“Fareeha? Helloooooooooo?” Angela waved her hand in front of Fareeha’s hypnotized face.

Fareeha shook her head. “Uh- yeah, sorry what?”

Angela chuckled to herself a little and it was adorable. “I said where are my clothes?” Fareeha looked around for a second before remembering she put them in the washer earlier.

“Sorry Angela, I put them in the washer already.” She really did look sorry. “But you can take any of my clothes!”

Angela squinted her eyes at her guilty looking Fareeha, held her chin in contemplation and thought of some options. _Any of her clothes…_ She held her chin in contemplation for a few more seconds before grinning wildly. 

She pointed her finger at Fareeha and slowly approached her. “Well…” Fareeha slowly backed away as Angela slowly walked towards her seductively.

“I like what you are wearing right now.” What Fareeha was wearing was a ridiculously large hoodie and sweat pants, even big for her. Angela backed Fareeha into a wall and teased her hand at the hem of her hoodie.

Fareeha eyed her carefully as Angela’s smirk grew wider and she dropped her towel, crouched down, put Fareeha’s hoodie over her head and gently kissed her well-defined abs. Fareeha sucked in a breath as Angela’s mouth went up and up and up, over her breasts and eventually her little head popped up next to Fareeha’s.

“Hi…” The very naked angel in Fareeha’s hoodie spoke teasingly.

“Uhhh… greetings. What brings you here?”

“Oh… I don’t know…” Slender hands found their way onto Fareeha’s hips. “It just looked really warm and cozy in here.” Angela nuzzled her head into Fareeha’s head again and Fareeha grew 10 degrees hotter by her girlfriend’s cuteness.

Then the hands on Fareeha’s hips started gently tickling her ribs. 

Fareeha started giggling. “Angela! Angela no, we’re going to fall-” The rest was lost in Fareeha’s laughter as Angela tickled her faster, they lost balance somewhere in the middle of everything and they landed safely on the bed, both laughing and laughing…

Eventually their breathing calmed and they were cuddling on the bed again, now both in just Fareeha’s big hoodie.

“If you really want this hoodie, you can have it, angel.” Fareeha spoke as she gently scratched her girlfriend’s scalp.

“No, it’s way too big.”

They both chuckled again.

Eventually, Angela got into one of Fareeha’s large t-shirts and they both continued down to the kitchen filled with kisses and they enjoyed the delicious pancakes Fareeha made.


	28. A New Challenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 25:  
> D.Va gets Sombra into video games (Sombra is a cheater)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late. I thought that this prompt was for the 26th, but when I checked, apparently it was for the 25th.  
> Oops.  
> It's here now though, so. That's a plus. XD

Hana Song was so excited to show someone her starring role in Heroes of the Storm. Of course, she was the best character, hands down. She was so happy that she got to fight alongside her favorite character, Kerrigan…even if it was on the virtual battlefield.

She racked her brain, who would even be able to appreciate her greatness? Angela would give Hana the appropriate “oohs” and “ahhs” but they wouldn’t feel as satisfying knowing that Angela much preferred studying med books and Fareeha’s body and didn’t grasp the appeal of virtual gaming.

Reinhardt was much the same as Angela, as was Lucio. But he was in the game too, and Hana didn’t feel like arguing why she was the best at the moment…maybe later. Jack…no he was waay older than games, which eliminated Gabriel by default. So, most definitely not Ana. She continued to narrow her list of potential admirers in this manner until she was left with three of her most likely candidates: Winston, Satya, and Sombra. Satya was a bit of a stretch, Hana would admit, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

She skipped down to the control room where Winston could often be found during the day. He wasn’t hard to miss, his hulking mass sat in front of many large computer screens as he monitored the city, his large hands delicately peeling a banana as his feet skillfully twisted off the top of a peanut butter container. Before it got any weirder, Hana called for his attention.

“Hey, Winston!”

Startled, the scientist jerked, and his feet instinctively tightened. The flimsy plastic of the peanut butter container never stood a chance. The gooey substance smeared all over his feet and splattered all over the ground, Winston took a deep breath before sighing loudly through his nose. It took an entire five seconds before all of the air was expelled from his lungs.

“Yes. Hana.”

Hana’s eyes tracked the peanut butter goop as it fell from Winston’s feet and hit the floor. She caught herself staring and quickly returned her attention to the scientist’s face. Which was looking particularly murderous at the moment.

“Umm…ya know what? It can wait. I can see that you’re busy.” With that, Hana fled the scene pretending not to hear Winston’s frustrated sigh.

“That was unfortunate.” Hana muttered to herself when she managed to get far enough away.

She made a mental reminder to avoid Winston for the rest of the day.

The next person on her list of potential admirers was Satya. Mostly because that was who her running had brought her closest to. She trekked along the halls trying to find Satya’s room. Hana knew which one was hers because it was the shiniest door of all. She reached up and knocked on the metal door. Her cheeks pulled from the big grin she was preparing for when Satya answered the door.

Nothing.

She tried knocking again. A little louder this time.

Silence.

“Satya? It’s me, Hana.”

There was a muffled sigh before Hana heard the woman’s heels clacking on the floor inside. When the metal slid open, it revealed the stern looking woman Hana had been searching for.

“Hello!” Hana waved.

There was a pause before Satya raised one of her brows. Hana cleared her throat nervously before she peeked past the taller woman. Amelie was there, watching her struggle.

“Widow? What are you doing here?”

“We were trying to watch a movie.” Satya answered.

“Oohh. Which one?” Hana quickly ran a mental list of all the movies the women might find enjoyable and narrowed it by things they would be mutually interested.

“Pariah.” Amelie replied, leaning further into her chair to peer around Satya.

“Never heard of it.” Hana admitted.

“Sombra assured us it was well worth watching.” Amelie drawled.

Hana allowed her eyes to drift back to Satya.

“Did you need something? If not, then I would like to finish this movie.”

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to play” Satya took a step back inside her room as Hana spoke, “a game” reached to the side of the door, “with me” and pressed the button, closing it in front of Hana’s face, “but I can see that you’re busy.” Hana finished. Puffing out her cheeks at the rude display, she stuck out her tongue for a moment before turning and heading for Sombra’s room.

“Third time’s the charm!” Hana cheered to herself. She hoped the other woman would be in her room. It was a roll of the dice on whether or not Sombra was where she was supposed to be. She didn’t have any missions coming up, but it wouldn’t be out of the norm for her to be pestering Winston in the control room.

“Good luck with that.” Hana snorted to herself.

She found the door, it wasn’t hard because it was littered with stickers and purple spray paint. She gave a short knock and the door opened on its own after the third time. Hana found Sombra inside pecking away at her keyboard.

“Yes, Ana?” Sombra greeted without looking away from her screen.

“It’s actually me…Hana?” She prompted.

“That’s what I said.” Sombra paused for only a moment in her typing as she answered.

There was a moment of silence between them, with only the sound of keys being pressed interrupting it.

“Right. Well, I was wondering if you wanted to play a game?” Hana offered.

Sombra stopped typing and spun her chair around to face the other. “What kind of game?”

Hana felt her eyes sparkle with enthusiasm as she explained about Heroes of the Storm and all her favorite characters and what the object of the game was.

Sombra rubbed her chin for a moment before smiling. “Sure! I was getting tired of messing with Winston anyway.” She replied with a flick of her hand to close the screen she was previously working on.

Hana sucked in an excited breath before she grabbed Sombra’s hand and dragged her along to her room. “You have to download it or else I would have just played in your room.”

Sombra shrugged and translocated back to her doorway and out of Hana’s grip. “Relax, downloading games should only take a moment for me.”

Hana gave her a skeptical look, but didn’t want to deter her from the game. “Okay. I am just going to go grab my gaming equipment and I’ll be back. If it isn’t done, then you can play on mine. Alright?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Hana nodded before making a mad dash for her room. She snatched up her laptop, mouse, keyboard, and headset and lugged it to Sombra’s room.

Only a few minutes had passed before she returned. She kicked the door because her hands were full, and the door slid open on its own again.

“Let me just set this up.” Hana suggested as she plopped her stuff down on Sombra’s bed.

“Why?”

“So you can play while your game downloads.” Hana replied, confused.

“I’m already playing.” Sombra answered.

“What?” Hana screeched. “No way!”

She pressed her face close to Sombra’s screen as if her eyes were playing some cruel trick on her.

“How did you manage to get the game on so fast?”

“I cheated.” Sombra answered vaguely. Hana waited for her to elaborate, but when it was clear she wasn’t going to, she gave a sigh of defeat.

“I like this Kerrigan woman. She reminds me of someone I know.” Sombra mentioned dazedly. Trying to place where the sense of familiarity was from.

“Oh! I love her! She’s so cool. Almost as cool as me!” At Sombra’s skeptical look she continued, “Probably cooler.” Hana admitted quietly.

Sombra smirked and returned to her screen. “Is this…is this you?”

Hana perked up immediately. “Yep!”

“What about me?”

“Umm, no. You’re not in there.”

“Qué triste.” Sombra said mournfully before making a sound of surprise. “Wait. Lúcio’s here too?”

Hana smoothed a lock of her hair nervously. “Yeah.”

Sombra gave her a look before shrugging. “Looks like I’m playing Kerrigan.”

She entered the game and spent the first few seconds getting a feel for the controls.

It was a few games before Hana asked if she could play with Sombra.

She giggled at the battletag name when Sombra told her so they could find each other. “Why did you pick the name Olivia?”

Sombra’s only answer was a noncommittal shrug.

“How did you even get the name Olivia anyway? Shouldn’t there be numbers or some differences? I feel like that name would have been taken ages ago.”

Sombra chuckled. “I guess I’m just lucky.”

Hana picked herself since Kerrigan was taken and the two of them decimated the other team majority of the time. Players who were completely terrible left the game after a minute. Sombra would always giggle afterwards.

They made a great team and before long Hana had to leave and call it a night. Bidding Sombra a good night’s rest, Hana packed up her equipment and returned to her room quietly.

It was after a few days, when Hana decided to play Heroes of the Storm again, that she first encountered “Olivia” on the opposing team.

Smiling she picked Kerrigan. She marveled at the high level Sombra had reached in just a few days, but shrugged it off. Hana wasn’t about to complain about another gamer’s level of dedication.

She charged onto the battlefield knowing exactly what lane Sombra would be taking., before lurking in some grass. It was about two seconds before she found her character getting killed by “Olivia”.

She narrowed her eyes and typed into the chat for everyone to see, ‘haha, good one’ while she waited to respawn.

The trend continued and every time, she would get more and more frustrated. The game was almost over before Hana asked, ‘how r u so good already!?!?’

Sombra replied with ‘boop’ and Hana lost it. She made it her mission to kill the enemy Kerrigan before all was said and done. Damn the mission. Her team was doomed anyway.

She searched high and low before she found Olivia killing Hana’s team’s tank. “Oh no you don’t.” Hana warned before launching her brutal attack on the enemy. Sombra’s character was losing health faster than Hana’s and she could taste the bittersweet victory close at hand.

Sombra was on her last bar of health before she disappeared. Hana and the tank ran around in circles to see if Sombra was lurking somewhere just off screen.

“What the?”

Before she even finished her question, Sombra’s Kerrigan struck and depleted her remaining two bars of health.

“How the hell did you do that?” Hana asked incredulously as she simultaneously typed.

‘gg ;P’

Hana sighed, figuring it was a glitch and that she’d never have to deal with playing against Sombra again. ‘gg : |’ Hana replied, willing to be a good sport about the defeat. A true gamer knows how to lose graciously. At least, that was what she told herself.

She shuffled over to Sombra’s room and knocked on the door. As usual, it opened on the third knock.

“Come to offer me praise?” Sombra gloated as she twirled around in her chair.

Hana stared at her for a moment, she had to be sure. “How’d you do it?”

Sombra raised a brow. “Do what?”

“How did you teleport?”

“I cheated.”

Hana gaped. “Sombra! How…why? Why cheat?”

“Because it’s fun.”

Hana pinched the bridge of her nose. Her last attempt at remaining civil. “Could you please stop?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s cheating!” Hana stomped her foot.

“So?” Before Hana could reply, Sombra continued, “If you don’t like it, then report me.”

Hana gave Sombra a pitiful look, “I couldn’t do that. The only reason you’re playing this game is because of me.”

Sombra raised her eyebrows expectantly. “So what are you going to do?”

Hana thought for a moment, “Want to team up?”

Sombra gave her an impish smile, “Of course.”

After that, the two of them would always see if the other was on and make sure they were in a group before playing to prevent any argument again.

They haven’t lost a game while playing together since then.


	29. Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all. I bring you this chapter which was written by Budgiebum . The prompt is Hands and the pairing is Pharmercy. Enjoy!

Angela falls back down beside Fareeha with a thump, panting and wiping the sweat from her brow. She lets her head sink into the pillow as she tries to catch her breath. “That was amazing, Fareeha,” she says in near whisper. 

“I know, and you’re welcome,” Fareeha says, rolling to her side and propping her own head up on a hand. “Love you.” Fareeha lies back once more and motions for Angela to join her. The blonde snuggles into her shoulder with a sigh. Fareeha traces random patterns down Angela’s cheek till a pale hand comes up to stop her own.

“I love you,” she says, pressing her lips first to Fareeha’s palm and then to a new, pink scar crossing her fingers. “I’m glad this is healing well. You can be such a klutz sometimes, dear.”

Fareeha flushes with embarrassment at the memory of how her hand came by that particular scar. She had been cooking dinner when she found herself with a single oven mitt and figured she could handle the pan with one hand. It slipped from her protected grip and her reflexes caused her to catch the pan with her bare hand, searing the flesh across her fingers badly. It had been weeks and Angela still won’t let her live it down.

Angela tuts, planting another kiss on the scar at the crux of Fareeha’s thumb and forefinger. “You know how much I love these hands,” she says, pressing her cheek into the warm tanned palm, grinning up at her love. She delights in how the blush spreads from Fareeha’s cheeks and begins to creep down her neck. “You’re too cute when you’re flustered. We’ve just been intimate and yet your mind is still so dirty, love.”

“You’re doing it on purpose,” Fareeha mutters into Angela’s golden locks. 

“Mhm, it’s fun, but I’m being serious Fareeha. These are the hands that love me, the hands that hold me when I need them, the hands that fix things that are broken. These are the hands that help people. Every scar tells that story, and while I wish you wouldn’t get any more, I love them.” She kisses the scar by her wife’s thumb once more. “Although this one has the most amusing story.”

Fareeha groans remembering it. “I still hate that parrot,” she says, referring to her mother’s Hahn’s macaw, the culprit behind this particular scar.

Angela laughs, pressing her face back into Fareeha’s shoulder. “You only hate it because it bonded to Ana and won’t have anything to do with you. You should have known better than to try and lift him off her shoulder at the halloween party.” 

Pouting, Fareeha wraps her arms around Angela and fully buries her face in her silky hair, idly running her fingers through it.

“I love it when your hands do that, too.” Angela yawns, turning in Fareeha’s arms to face the ceiling. She pulls the hand from around her waist and begins tracing the lines and scars with her fingertips. “These hands have done so much good in the short time you’ve been alive.” She pulls Fareeha’s hand toward her, turning it to kiss the scar across the back. “I believe you got this one in University?” 

Fareeha huffs. “Yes. We were working on an engine and I wasn’t wearing gloves. I tore myself open and got a huge reprimand for it.” 

“Right, but you got it obtaining knowledge, so it’s not so bad,” she replies with another jaw cracking yawn.

“Alright, I think it’s time to sleep,” Fareeha says, drawing her hand from Angela’s grasp and smoothing the bangs behind her hear. She leans over Angela to turn off the lamp, bathing the bedroom in darkness. 

“Fareeha, promise me you’ll be more careful. I need these strong hands around for a long while to help raise our children.” 

Fareeha pulls Angela close and tightens her grip around her slender wife. “Of course, I promise to be more careful. I will always be here for my family, you can count on that.” 

Angela hums sleepily and snuggles deeper into Fareeha’s embrace as they drift into a content slumber, secure in each others hands.


	30. Smiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Smiles Ship: Pharmercy
> 
> Just something short and hopefully sweet. Probably the shortest thing I'll ever write in my entire life lol

Angela Ziegler did not smile very often.

Well, she did, but most of the time they were genuinely fake.

At least that was the observation of one Fareeha Amari as she watched the doctor’s daily interactions. It started a fire in her soul, burning bright right next to small, diminished flame that was her very-much-still-alive childhood crush on Angela. It kindled her desire to get a true, sincere smile from the blonde.

She started with the most simple form of gift giving in order to win over the doctor’s attention. What better gift was there to give than the gift of caffeine and nourishment, the latter which Angela seemed to forgo quite often.

The first time she brought the doctor a mug of coffee she simply received a small thanks and a smile that, while grateful, wasn’t exactly what Fareeha was looking for. So what else to do than to continue to bring her things? Sometimes Fareeha would stop by in the latest hours of the night, and sometimes even in the earliest hours of the morning. Early enough that her vision was blurry as she yawned her way to Angela’s office, steaming mug in hand. 

“It looks like you might need that much more than I do,” Angela jokes as she takes in Fareeha’s still bedridden hair and her half lidded eyes. As much as Fareeha wanted to respond with something witty and borderline flirtatious, her brain could only signal her to shake her head for ‘no’ as she handed Angela the beverage.

Perhaps it was her sleepy appearance that increased her cute factor that morning, but that was the first day Fareeha got a glimpse of Angela’s smile. Her real smile. As she held the mug with both hands and uttered a sincere ‘thank you’ to her, she smiled - and it wasn’t fake.

And something about her smile to Fareeha was just so beautiful, so warm; and she knew in that moment she had to see it again.

She began to spend a lot more time with the doctor. Especially so when one day she asked, out of plain curiosity, just how exactly her Caduceus staff worked. At first, she questioned whether Fareeha was seriously asking her such a thing.

“Are you sure? No one’s ever really cared to ask before.”

“Well, good thing I’m not ‘no one’.”

Angela had went on for nearly half an hour telling her about the entire history of the staff from when she was first thinking of ways to externally apply her biotics, and she hadn’t even gotten to the part that explains how it works. Probably wasn't very close to that part either. But Fareeha couldn’t care less, eyes focused only on her as she told her tale. How her smile was filled with so much passion and so much love for her work, and how she wished that Angela’s smile would shine just as bright with love for her.

\--

Angela Ziegler didn’t smile often, but that was before Fareeha Amari. 

She didn’t know how it happened so fast but Fareeha had successfully rooted herself into her life. In such short time she had become an important piece to her every day. 

Now, just the sight of Fareeha has her facial muscles working overtime, and it surprised herself to find she almost always has a smile when she’s around the woman. From the moment she walks through the door to the moment she leaves, and everywhere in between. 

Fareeha loved every second of it. 

“I guess you’re becoming quite the procaffeinator,” she jokes one day. Angela was telling her about the work she’s been putting off to spend time with Fareeha instead. 

Even her puns were well received with smiles. A lopsided smile which spoke very clearly that her puns were terrible but that there was still something about them she appreciated anyway. 

“That was terrible,” Angela tells her, but Fareeha knows she’s just as amused by it as she was at her reaction.

There were smiles she knew were ever present on her face, but couldn’t see. Like when they shared an embrace after a long time apart due to the nature of their jobs. She she knew Angela was smiling like wild over her shoulder, and oh how she wished she could see it. 

Naturally their relationship grows close and Fareeha begins to see the growing buds of warmth in not only her smile, but Angela’s gaze as well. A small smile painted with desire as blue eyes pass over her lips, and Fareeha’s own dorky smile back. And when they did share their first kiss, and Fareeha could feel the smile she has come to love against her own lips, it was everything she could have ever imagined. 

Angela Ziegler smiles a lot more often now and everyone around her seemed to notice, with the select few who were able to pinpoint her exact reason why. 

Fareeha was just as observant of the doctor as she went about her duties. It was very much true that there was a grin of some sort plastered on her face quite often throughout the average day. 

Fareeha wondered how many of those smiles were because of thoughts of herself. While she did smile more, both to herself and others, it was never like the smiles that she got to see in their private moments. 

Those were reserved for her.


	31. A Warm Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, Barna here. This is some Pharmercy smut I wrote a long time ago and that has been dusted off to be a part of No Angst November. I like to think that my writing has improved since then, so sorry if this isn't the best, but I hope you'll like it!

Angela missed Fareeha’s touch. She had been away for six days, and it was starting to get to the point where she felt irritated that she couldn’t see her in person. They often talked, but while the medic was enjoying the safety of the watchpoint, Fareeha was out on a mission, and the doctor often noticed a very apparent tone of fatigue in the other’s voice. She knew Fareeha needed as much rest as possible, but she just wanted to talk to her whenever there was time. She swore she wouldn’t let Jack send them on separate assignments ever again, no matter how much convincing he would need.

She often found herself wondering what Fareeha was doing at the moment. She knew very well that the time zone difference meant that their schedules would be completely different, so often one of them would be asleep while the other was busy. Still, she often wondered if Fareeha was thinking about her at any given moment.

She missed Fareeha in every way. The cold bed at nights wasn’t nearly as inviting as when there was someone to share it with, and waking up alone was something she had not had to put up with for quite some time. She also had to admit to herself that the intimacy shared with her lover was something she could not easily make do without anymore. She could only find so much relief by herself, and she often found her thoughts drifting from her work to Fareeha’s strong arms, her godly thighs and beautiful dark skin. She couldn’t wait for the soldier’s mission to be over and to finally have her home again.

-

It was the day before Fareeha’s expected return that Angela was taking a shower in their shared quarters, and she was reminded again of how much she hated being alone. Just as with most other things, showering alone was much less exciting than doing it together with her lover. She bit her lip at the thought of their wet bodies pressing together, the warm water embracing them as they kissed and touched and felt around each other. Angela would never tire of that experience, and now remembering it only intensified the burning desire inside of her. One of her hands started wandering to her breasts, trying to imitate the way her lover’s fingers always danced around on her skin. Thoughts of Fareeha’s gentle yet powerful hands came to her mind, and she was already lost in the memory of all the ways she used to touch her. Angela was longing, craving the touch that she had missed for what felt like countless days of solitude. The warmth of the water didn’t help to lessen her lusting, and it didn’t take long for one of her hands to find its way between her thighs. She tilted her head back as pleasure flooded her senses, though never as intense as if she were with Fareeha.

She was turned inwards into the shower, so she didn’t see or hear as the bathroom door closed. Just as she was getting herself worked up, she snapped back to reality at the sound of a familiar voice coming from behind her.

“Good evening, ya amar. I see you’re busy all by yourself…”

Angela immediately turned around, startled yet filled with excitement at the soft voice of her lover. “Fareeha! You’re back early!”

She almost jumped into Fareeha’s arms after running to her from the shower, and immediately drew her into a hungry kiss. She also lifted one of her legs along her lover’s thigh, trying to pull her as close as she could. After a few minutes of making out, she finally pulled away and surveyed the other with a look that was everything but restrained. “I missed you so much, mein Schatz… I thought I would have to spend another day alone and…”

Fareeha just smiled and that was enough to silence Angela. “Well, I made some arrangements and… I thought I’d surprise you.” She chuckled and took a glance downwards. “ I hope I’m not… interrupting anything…”

Angela would have blushed if her face wasn’t already red from excitement. “Um, on the contrary, you would be welcome to join me… Oh, meine Liebe, you wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed you.” Her hands were running up and down Fareeha’s muscular arms, trying to take in everything at once. Even though she had imagined this moment many times over the past days, seeing and touching her lover in person finally was so much better.

Suddenly looking uncomfortable in her clothes, Fareeha started taking them off, and Angela was eager to help. After making short work of Fareeha’s already light clothing, seeing her in her full naked glory only aroused Angela even more, and she tugged on her arms to guide her back towards the shower, all the while kissing her with passion.

Angela gasped as Fareeha pressed her against the wall, all of her defenses crumbling under the strength of the other. Her only desire was to give herself to her lover, and Fareeha seemed to understand the situation perfectly well. One of her hands found its way to Angela’s wet things and even wetter core, making her breath shudder.

“Gott, Fareeha, your hands feel so much better…” The soldier hummed as she pressed a few more quick kisses on Angela’s neck before starting to kneel down. “Mein Schatz, what are you… Aah!”

As Fareeha’s mouth pressed onto her, Angela felt her legs go weak, but thankfully the other supported her with her arms. She was cursing and yelling in ecstasy and she could barely look down because Fareeha was looking back up at her while eating her out with such intensity that Angela felt like she was going to melt. She was leaning against the wall, but her back curved forward so that she was more exposed to Fareeha. The soldier made full use of the position, while her mouth kept Angela pinned from the front, her arms were wrapped around her waist and upper thighs to keep her close.

Feeling her orgasm build up, Angela moved her hips forward even more. “Scheiße, Fareeha, I’m…” Before she could finish her sentence, Fareeha’s tongue went even deeper, and that was too much for Angela. With a sharp cry she collapsed on top of Fareeha, who held her as her shaking legs gave out under her.  
A couple of minutes had to pass before Angela sat up, straddling Fareeha’s lap. “Mein Gott, my dear, I’m glad we’re in the shower…”

Fareeha laughed and pulled her down onto her again. “I think we should get washed and then head to bed, I think we could both use a bit of rest. What do you think?” She ran her hands up and down Angela’s wet and slippery back, appreciating every curve beneath her easily gliding fingers.

Angela nodded her head in agreement to Fareeha’s proposal. “Alright, let’s go to bed and then we can talk some, now that the, um, most _urgent_ things are done…” She laughed happily as they both stood up, Fareeha taking note of the slight trembling in her lover’s legs. Angela noticed, too, and she gave her an apologetic smile, clearing her throat before voicing her thoughts on the matter. “Well, you seem to have a talent for making a woman’s legs go weak, and apparently not only because of your looks…”

Fareeha chuckled and suddenly she remembered something which she had missed doing for the last week, and this was the perfect chance. “Then, humbled by your praise, may I offer to carry you to bed in return?”

Angela’s cheeks lit up immediately, but she reached around Fareeha’s neck with both of her hands as she drew her closer. They kissed for a long time, and after parting, the medic looked into the other’s eyes with a gaze full of nothing but love. “I’m so glad to have you home, meine Liebe.”

“And I’m glad to be home, my angel. Come, let’s go to bed now. I’ve been looking forward to finally being able to hold you at night.” With that, just as Angela was starting to get a bit embarrassed again, she scooped her up from the floor and they set off towards the bedroom where the warm and inviting bed was waiting for them.


	32. Mutual Pining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You make me so happy it turns back to sad._
> 
> _There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick little thing for the mutual pining prompt.

When Angela wakes up, Fareeha is already in the base’s kitchen. She stands by the stove, tending to a couple of eggs.

 

“Good morning!” Fareeha says over the sizzling, smiling brightly. Angela can tell she went for a run earlier—she’s still wearing her blue work-out shorts.

 

Angela smiles privately. Fareeha is much more of a morning person than she’ll ever be…

 

She imagines pulling Fareeha back to bed on Saturday mornings, whispering _just another hour_ into soft hair.

 

Angela blinks, disoriented; then she aches. She doesn’t know why she does this to herself. “Morning, Fareeha.”

 

“Want an egg?” Fareeha asks, gesturing to the two in the pan.

 

“Weren’t you making two for yourself?”

 

Fareeha shrugs. “I can always make more. I don’t usually get company this early,” she grinned, “let alone eggcellent company.”

 

Angela walks over to the pantry; Fareeha’s gesture is sweet. The joke is endearing. Fareeha herself is sweet. That is what Angela thinks; what comes out of her mouth is: “I’m going to need some caffeine before you make any more of those.”

 

But Fareeha laughs warmly, turns the element off. Angela pours some beans into the coffee grinder as Fareeha places a hand to her heart. “I promise the puns will stop until you finish your first cup.”

 

“I appreciate the consideration.”

 

Angela makes enough coffee for both her and Fareeha, and they eat their breakfast together in easy silence.

 

She wonders if Fareeha is brushing against her shoulder on purpose.

 

Probably not.

 

She tries very hard to pretend she isn’t affected by what they’re doing—to not imagine casual breakfasts together, Fareeha’s hand holding hers under the table…

 

_That will never happen,_

 

She tells herself.

 

_That will never happen,_

 

Until she believes it.

 

_That will never happen,_

 

She focuses so intently on repeating the phrase she doesn’t notice the tears on her cheeks until a droplet falls onto the table. She wipes her face hastily; Fareeha looks at her with concern. “Sorry,” Angela says quickly. “It’s nothing.”

 

Fareeha studies her, unconvinced. “Are you sure?”

 

“It’s not important.”

 

Fareeha nods, is quiet for a moment. “It’s my eggs, isn’t it?” she teases gently. “I knew they weren’t very good.”

 

Angela’s laugh is watery. “Your eggs were perfect.”

 

Fareeha smiles, but by the seriousness of her eyes Angela can tell her concern has not been assuaged. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

 

Fareeha wraps a tentative arm around her, and against all better judgment, Angela settles in to the embrace, sighs into Fareeha’s shoulder. “Stop being so perfect,” Angela finally says. “That might make things easier.”

 

Fareeha blinks. “What?”

 

“When you do things like this… you make it very hard to get over you.”

 

Fareeha’s jaw drops a fraction, her arm tenses, and Angela braces herself for rejection. She doesn’t expect a wide-eyed, incredulous “Why would you need to do that?”

 

“I thought…” Angela trails off.

 

“Angela… the last six months I thought you only saw me as a friend.”

 

Angela is silent for a moment, and then she can’t help the laugh that escapes her. “So did I.”

 

Then Fareeha is laughing too—relieved, nervous, and amused at their own stupidity.

 

Angela watches her, grins. “I don’t think we’re very good at this.”

 

Fareeha’s laughter fades. She smirks playfully. “You know what I think we would be good at?

 

Angela plays along, raises a brow. “What?”

 

Fareeha leans in and Angela’s eyes flutter closed; Angela closes the distance between them and…

 

Yes, they were good at that.


	33. I Was Just Flirting With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The woman at work takes Sombra's breath away. Maybe a little flirting can help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Flirting
> 
> This is technically super late (it's definitely not November anymore lol) but I'm committed to finishing the prompts. I've got two more left to go. Enjoy!

“Were your hands meant for mine? Because they look like a perfect fit.”

“I keep my shoes tied tight after I fell for you.”

“If I was yogurt, you’d… that one’s just stupid.”

Sombra stood in front of her mirror, fingers guns slowly drooping.  There was this woman at work that took her breath away with everything she did. She was dying to ask her out, but they didn’t exactly work in the same department. She had yet to say more than two words to her.

Fareeha came upon the seen sympathetic for her roommate. She knew those droopy fingers guns well. “Hey, don’t count yourself out before you even get the chance to ask out your architect crush. I’m sure she’ll love the line about yogurt.”

Sombra quickly turned around, embarrassment tinging her voice when she said, “You heard that?!”

Fareeha shrugged. “It wasn’t completely bad. I’m sure she’d at least laugh if you told it to her. You are going to talk to her today, right?”

“Well, yeah. That’s the plan. Although she spends a lot of time in her office and has never once put in a request for her computer. So, I don’t see how someone from IT like me would just get to talking to her if she doesn’t have any IT related problems.”

“Lunch break?”

“Is that how you asked out Angela, on her lunch break?”

“No. I was the one on break and about to go to lunch when this flustered blonde woman shouted out for me to hold the elevator for her. Next thing I knew, my lunch break turned into a date.”

 _Ay, that sounds like a dream come true._ “So which approach should I take, yours or Angela’s?”

“Definitely Angela’s. If this woman does spend most of her time in her office, then she probably doesn’t know that you think she’s wonderful in every way.”

_Alright, how hard could it be?_

-

“Sombra, can you check out my computer? My photo editor keeps crashing.”

“Sure, Dave. Just send in a request and I’ll check it out when I’m free,” Sombra said as she read a magazine at her desk.

“The request system is down and, besides, aren’t you free right now?”

She set down the magazine. “Technically, yes. But that’s just not how the system works. You want some of my time, you gotta put in a request, claro?”

Dave walked out of her office confused and none closer to fixing his problem. Sombra really didn’t care though, she had other things on her mind. _Oh, god. It’s almost lunch. Am I ready for this?_

She definitely wasn’t ready, at all. But she left her office anyway, hopeful that the woman of her dreams would at least give her the time of day.

The woman of her dreams gave her the time of day a lot sooner than she thought she would. Satya Vaswani bumped into her right outside of her office. Sombra, formerly a useful lesbian, fell straight to the floor in surprise.

 _Oh fuck! I am not prepared. Just act cool._ She picked herself up and offered a friendly smile. “Hello, what can I do for you?”

“Are you sure that I shouldn’t be asking that of you? You did fall on the floor rather hard.”

Sombra waved her off. “Oh, it’s no big deal. I’d fall for you any day of the week.” She almost fell back down to the floor with what she just said. A hard grip on the doorframe to her office kept her from eating carpet again. _Ay, why don’t you declare your undying love for her while you’re at it?_ “Ha, would you look at that? It seems that I just can’t keep myself together in front of the woman of my dreams.” Her body almost made contact with the floor once more.

Satya looked on at her colleague with bemusement. She had never known her to be so… eccentric. In passing, she came off as confident and charismatic, like she was the most important person in the room and she knew it. Satya found it admirable, charming even. Although, she couldn’t deny that the scene in front of her wasn’t equally as charming. “Olivia was it? Are you sure you are not in need of assistance? You’ve almost fallen over twice more. I would be happy to help you back to your desk.”

 _She knows my name and wants to carry me in her arms? I’m… I’m okay. I can do this. I can get through this!_ “Don’t worry about it. I just have a mild case of word vomit. What brings you to my office?”

“My photo editor keeps crashing every time I launch it. I would have sent in a request, but the system is down.”

That sounded an awful lot like Dave’s earlier problem. The system was down because she just didn’t feel like taking any requests for the day. The photo editor problem however… “You’re the second person that’s said something like that today. Let me see if there’s a bug in the system.”

She pulled up the monitoring system on her computer, easily identifying Satya’s computer from the identification number she had memorized. Sure enough, there was a red flag flashing on her screen indicating the presence of a virus. _Well, fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have ignored Dave._ Sombra scrolled through the rest of the computer ids in the list. At least ten more of them had the same bug. She quarantined the affected systems and checked for the source.  

“Fucking Dave.”

“What did Dave do?” Satya had moved from the doorway to just behind Sombra at her desk. Curiosity had gotten the better of her when her colleague started muttering about a bug in the network. Apparently, Dave was at fault.

 _She’s so close._ “Did you open any emails from him today?”

Normally Satya ignored any and all contact from Dave. She just didn’t like him. He sent too many emails in a week and was a mediocre architect at best. Today, she received an email from him with ‘free cake’ as the subject. Satya has a ridiculous sweet tooth, so, of course she opened it. The only thing in the email was the word ‘lol’, no details about cake. “To my disappointment, yes, I did open an email from him. Is that why my software isn’t working correctly?”

“Yeah, and I’m surprised no one else has bothered me about it today. If I didn’t know anything about computers, I’d be banging my head against my desk because of this bug. But, since I’m me, everything is under control now. I’ve got all the affected systems quarantined and I’ll clean everything up when I get back from lunch.”

Apparently, Satya was done talking to her. An uncomfortable silence filled the office and Sombra felt like melting into the floor. _I should have just asked her out to lunch. Now it’s too awkward._

The two stewed in the silence for a bit more before Satya asked, “Have you dealt with this virus before?”

 _Oh, thank god._ “Nah, I’m actually surprised it made it past my security. It must be fairly new for it to not have been automatically quarantined.” _Just ask her to lunch already. You won’t get a girlfriend by talking about viruses._ Sombra took a deep breath to calm her nerves. It was now or never. “But, forget about the virus for now. It’s lunch time. Do you want to join me?”

Satya didn’t hesitate. “No.”

_Ay, that was fucking fast._

“I already ate lunch in my office. But, I am going out for frozen yogurt and I would not mind company.”

 _A chance!_ “Yes! I love frozen yogurt. Were you going to the one across the street?”

“Yes, that is the one. Shall we get out of here then?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

-

The trip to the frozen yogurt shop was short but silent. Sombra wanted to at least make small talk, but every time she tried, Satya would look back at her with a raised brow and a half smile. It made her feel like a walking puddle.

It wasn’t until they had both ordered and found a window booth that she finally spoke up. “So, you ate lunch already?”

“Yes, but I suppose it’s a bit misleading to say that I already had lunch,” Satya said, pausing to collect her thoughts. “I pretty much eat lunch all day. That giant briefcase I bring in? Ninety percent of it is filled with food. I snack on whatever is in there throughout the day. It makes for a nice break from whatever project I’m working on at the time. During the actual lunch hour, I just go out and get a desert.”

Sombra couldn’t believe her ears. This absolutely perfect woman ate lunch all day in her office while creating the most beautiful structures on the planet. _I didn’t think she could get any more perfect._ “Maybe I should pick up this all-day lunch thing. Is there room for two in your office?”

“Technically there’s room for many people in my office. Ten, maybe fifteen or more,” Satya said.

Sombra was going to clarify what she meant, but stopped when she saw the playful smirk Satya wore. _I don’t believe this, she’s actually fucking with me. Could this day get any better?_

“I wouldn’t mind if you stopped by for a visit, Olivia.”

Sombra ducked behind her frozen yogurt, trying and failing to hide the huge grin stretched across her face. _The way she says my name makes me feel like… like…_ “I’m super hella gay.”

“Pardon?” Satya asked, amusement shining through her eyes.

“Nobody ever calls me Olivia, you know. But, since I’m super hella gay, I don’t mind if _you_ call me that.” Sombra said, adding in a wink for good measure. The dazzling smile from Satya was worth the crazy amount of bravado it took for that confession. _Now just go a little further._ “It’s fitting that we’re here at a frozen yogurt shop, because if I was yogurt, you’d be the granola on top.”

Satya had to brace herself against the table with how hard she laughed. “Is that a coded way to say that you’re a bottom?”

“Why don’t we find out later? Or some other day maybe because we totally don’t have to do anything that involves granola or bottoms today,” Sombra stammered out, a furious blush painting her cheeks.

“I think a date would be a good compromise, don’t you?”

“Are you asking me out on a date even though I was the one hard at work with the flirting and word vomit?”

“Yes,” Satya said. “I’m free after work today. Is that an acceptable time for a date?”

“Sounds perfect.”


	34. America's Menace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Widowmaker really doesn't like Guy Fieri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Guy Fieri is a menace
> 
> This is just a fun little thing with Team Talon and their opinion on Guy Fieri.  
> Hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> (I still have one more prompt to do. orz It's December but fuck it.)

“Guy Fieri is a menace,” Widowmaker said, contempt tinging her voice.

She was on a mission with the rest of Talon’s star operatives. At least, that’s what she had to tell herself when she was paired with Sombra, Reaper, and Akande “Doomfist” Ogundimu _again._ The strike team was supposed to include their resident medic, Moira, but the Irish wonder called in sick.

_“I’m experiencing dull, aching head pain as well as pressure across my forehead. Good luck on the mission without me, operatives. I left some adhesive bandages in Widowmaker’s ponytail. Check there if you get a booboo.”_

_C’est bien_ , Widowmaker thought. _I could never understand a word she said anyway. We don’t need her or her fucking sandwiches._

The problem she was facing now had nothing to do with the absence of their medic. It was the night before the big mission, eleven pm. And there was nothing on TV but Guy Fieri’s Diner’s, Drive-In’s and Dives.

“This man goes around raiding America’s trash bins for their garbage burgers and calls them “delicious”. It’s 2076, shouldn’t he be rotting in a grave somewhere? If I ever spot the man, I’ll put a bullet through his face myself.”

“Didn’t you hear? He got cryogenically frozen back in 2020. They unfroze him three years ago and he went right back to reality food television,” Sombra said. She was sitting on the couch next to Widowmaker at one of their safehouses, idly transferring money from Akande’s bank account into one of hers. “He’s actually quite the humanitarian.”

“We’re Talon, Sombra. We don’t exactly care about being good. Guy Fieri can go suck an egg,” Widowmaker said. “In fact, I’m sure he has, and it was just the best damn thing he ever tasted.”

Sombra laughed. “Ouch, chica. Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”

“If you ask me, she’s not being harsh enough,” Reaper said. He was also sitting on the couch. “That bleached blonde look died out ages ago. He’s trying too hard to look like 1997 Joey Patone. If he insists on looking like a train wreck, he could at least do it with style. That man needs to wear his natural hair color and asymmetrical pants, maybe pair it with a turtleneck and popped collar vest combo.”

“Oui, Reaper is right. He’d be more tolerable if he had even a lick of fashion. As it is now, he’s a walking faux pas and he doesn’t even fucking care. It makes me sick.”

“I don’t know, I think Guy Fieri is fine the way he is,” Akande said. He was lounging across everyone’s laps on the couch. There was no more room for him to have his own cushion, but they were comfortable enough with each other for the situation to not be awkward. “The chaos he creates just from existing is exactly what every great conflict needs, it’s what humanity needs to grow stronger. We should try to recruit him to Talon.”

“I’m for it,” Sombra said. “He can be the guy that cooks decent food for everyone on missions. I know I’m sick of whatever the hell Reaper whips up and shoves down our throats.”

Reaper emoted hurt through his mask at Sombra’s words. “You don’t like my food?”

The room grew tense. Sombra started sweating. Akande’s nipples grew hard. Widowmaker had no reaction because of the no feeling thing, but, on the inside-outside-inside-out, her heart sped up a fraction of a beat.

“I’m just fucking with you, Sombra. I know my food is inedible, but, someone’s gotta make it and I vote for it _not_ to be Guy Fieri.”

“Je suis d’accord, Reaper’s food is terrible, but I’d rather eat that for the rest of my goddamn life than let my tongue anywhere near the inelegant disgrace that Guy Fieri calls cooking. He had an episode where he ate a cake made from cow shit and he called it fine French cuisine. He can go fuck himself,” Widowmaker said. For someone that couldn’t feel, she was awfully anti Guy Fieri, passionately so.

“So, it’s two for and two against recruiting Mr. Fieri,” Akande started. “Who should be the tiebreaker?”

Without hesitation, everyone blurted out the same name at exactly the same time, “Moira.”

“Who is going to call her then?” Widowmaker asked. “Her accent is too hard for me to understand, so, I should not be the one to contact her.”

“Not it,” Reaper said. “I haven’t talked to her since the summer of ’69. And that’s 1969. I’m pretty sure she has my big toe in a jar somewhere.”

“It’s decided then,” Akande said. “Sombra will make the call.”

“Qué? Why me? Why can’t you do it Mr. Doomfist?”

“Because I said that you were going to do it,” Akande said.

“Ay, okay, okay. But, I’m putting her on video call. You all have to suffer with me,” Sombra said. She pulled up a screen and dialed Moira’s number. It rang about fifteen times before a mop of short red hair attached to it’s frowning owner appeared on screen.

“What is it, Sombra? I’m working,” Moira said, agitation bleeding through her voice.

“Hey, amiga. We, and I do mean all of us here on this couch, were wondering if you could help us with something.”

“Get on with it. What do you need help with?”

All eyes homed in on Sombra. She felt like flaking, crumbling. The weight of the world was on her shoulders. There wasn’t any room for error. “How do you feel about recruiting Guy Fieri to Talon? We’re currently tied on the decision over here and we’d appreciate it if you could swing it one way or the other.” _Nailed it._

Moira looked intrigued. “Guy Fieri? Isn’t he that reality food star? He’d certainly make for an interesting specimen.”

“What’s she saying, Gabriel? It sounds like she’s asking for a truck full of sharks,” Widowmaker whispered to Reaper.

“She hasn’t answered yes or no yet. But, she’s interested,” Reaper replied. He was also whispering.

Moira continued. “As it stands now, his hair and general appearance is atrocious, but that can always be bioengineered into something decent. Same thing with his humanitarian spirit. Based on those traits alone, I’d say yes.”

Reaper’s mask emoted into a sad, droopy frown.

“However, he had an episode where he ate a potato covered in Italian horse nipples and called it an Irish delicacy. He can go fuck himself,” Moira said. She abruptly ended the video call.

“We won!” Reaper exclaimed. He stood up from the couch, throwing Akande onto the ground in the process, and did a hearty fist pump. “Fuck Guy Fieri!”

“Oui, fuck him. America can keep their menace,” Widowmaker said. From Reaper’s reaction, she assumed Moira said no. It was either that or she really had a thing for eating baked hamburgers naked on a beach. She would have shuddered at the thought if she could.

“Ay, I guess fuck him then. But, do we really have to keep eating Reaper’s slop on missions? I think tonight’s dinner tore a hole through my stomach,” Sombra said.

“I could cook,” Akande said from his position on the floor. “Besides from being hella good at all the martial arts, I’m a fairly decent cook. I’ve mastered the art of Nigerian cuisine.”

“C’est bien. I don’t give a shit about who cooks as long as it’s not Guy Fieri. Not that I can actually give a shit about anything, really,” Widowmaker said.

“Agreed,” Reaper said.

With the Guy Fieri dilemma handled once and for all, the room fell into silence once again. Everyone looked at their nails, avoiding eye contact with everyone else.

“So, should we go back to watching TV now?” Sombra asked, breaking the silence.

“Might as well,” Akande said. He was still on the floor, but it had grown comfortable. “We’ve got our pick between a Diner’s, Drive-In’s and Dives marathon or an episode of Guy’s Grocery Games followed by a different marathon of Diner’s, Drive-In’s and Dives.”

_Somebody end my life with a fucking bullet already_ , Widowmaker thought. “Just put on the marathon. Maybe his lack of culinary finesse will put me to bed.”

And so, for the rest of the night, Team Talon watched Diner’s, Drive-In’s and Dives. Widowmaker fell asleep during the first episode. Sombra and Akande actually had a good time watching the entire marathon. And Reaper, he sat and grumbled about Guy Fieri’s fashion the whole time.

When the marathon ended, Sombra carried Widowmaker to bed and tucked her in. “Goodnight araña, hope you don’t have dreams about the American menace.”

Widowmaker rolled over in her sleep. “Fuck Guy Fieri,” she said softly.

 


End file.
